DUST 

and 

LIGHT 


John  Hall 
Wheeloclc 


ALVMNVS  BOOK  FVND 


DUST  AND  LIGHT 


DUST  AND   LIGHT 

BY 
JOHN  HALL  WIJEELOCK 

AUTHOR  OF 

"THE  HUMAN  FANTASY,"  "THE  BELOVED  ADVENTURE," 
"LOVE  AND  LIBERATION" 


— they  are  still  immortal 

Who,  through  birth's  orient  portal     ^  ' 
And  death's  dark  chasm  hurrying  to  and  fro, 

Clothe  their  unceasing  flight 

In  the  brief  dust  and  light 
Gathered  around  their  chariots  as  they  go — 

— SHELLET. 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1919 


Copyright,  1919,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
Published  September,  1919 


TO 
HARRIET  ANNE  WEINERT 

IN  GRATITUDE  FOR  HER  HELP 

IN  THE  PREPARATION  OP  THESE  PAGES 

FOR  THE  PRESS 


409247 


Thanks  are  due  to  the  editors  of  Scribner's  Magazine, 
The  Century,  Harper's  Monthly,  The  American  Magazine, 
The  Forum,  The  Smart  Set,  The  Bellman,  The  Bookman, 
The  Dial,  Poetry,  The  International,  The  Poetry  Journal, 
Reedy's  Mirror,  McClure's  Magazine,  Contemporary  Verse, 
The  Lyric,  The  Poetry  Review,  Youth,  The  Art  World,  The 
Yale  Review,  etc.,  for  their  courteous  permission  to  reprint 
many  of  the  following  poems. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.     Glimmering  Earth 

CLOUDLESS    MOONRISE  3 

EARTH  5 

SEPTEMBER    BY    THE    SEA  9 

THE    LONELY    POET  11 

STORM    AND    SUN  13 

THANKS    FROM    EARTH    TO    HEAVEN  18 

MIDNIGHT  21 

THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA  22 

DAWN    ON    MID-OCEAN  31 

DEAR    EARTH  32 

GOLDEN    NOON  33 

MOONLIT    EARTH  36 

SUMMER    DAWN  37 

DEPARTURE  38 

ix 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

II.     April  Lightning  39 
///.      The  Awakening  Dust 

THY    KINGDOM    COME  !  85 

FROM    A    TRANSPORT  89 

THE    FAR    LAND  90 

LITANY 

EAGLES    OF    DEMOCRACY  94 

THE    WORLD-SORROW  96 

HYMN    OF    MAN,    1917  97 

IV.      The  Source 

OASIS  101 

REVELATION  103 

CHALLENGE  106 

REVERENCE  107 

WOMAN:    BIRTH  AND  THE  RETURN  THROUGH 

LOVE  109 

ADORATION  H2 

ALL  THE  MORE  113 
X 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

V.     Earth  Puts  Forth  Her  Dream 

THE    OPENING    BARS    OF    WAGNER'S    "RING"         117 

ERNEST    DOWSON  118 

SWINBURNE  119 

SHAKESPEARE'S  JULIET:    IN  THE  VAULT  OF 

THE  CAPULETS  120 

THE    SEVENTH    SYMPHONY  121 

LILITH  122 

ROSSETTI  123 

BEETHOVEN  124 

TOLSTOI  125 

VI.     Be  Born  Again!  127 
VII.     Song  of  the  Moth 

THE    SELF  157 

WINE    OF    THE    WORLD  158 

ZENITH  160 

THE    PRESENCE  161 

THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET  163 

xi 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ESCAPE  170 

RETURN    AFTER    DEATH  171 

THE    DEAD    POET  174 

EXILE    FROM    GOD  175 

VANISHED  176 

THE    GREAT    SURRENDER  177 

TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM  178 

HOLY    LIGHT  187 


I 

GLIMMERING    EARTH 


Now  fade  the  conflicts  and  the  clamourings 

Of  the  loud  day  ;   a  steadier  hand  and  higher 
Across  the  broad  bosom  of  Creation's  strings 
Draws  the  most  holy  bow  of  deep  desire. 


CLOUDLESS    MOONRISE 

DRANCHES,  drenched  with  dew, 
J—J       Through  the  moonlight  loom, 
Drifted  moonlight  lies 
Deep  across  the  room. 

Through  the  glimmering  aisles 

And  wild  country  ways 
Drifts  the  fragrant  mist, 

Like  a  cloud  that  strays. 

Far,  and  far  around 

The  grasshoppers'  shrill 
Shimmers,  and  a  lone 

Cricket  from  the  hill 

Cries  "I  love,  I  love." 

Heaven's  holy  bound 
Overflows  with  calm 

Radiance  all  around. 

Heaven  is  like  a  room 

Bared,  immense  and  bright. 
3 


CLOUDLESS    MOONRISE 

Earth,  each  bush  and  tree, 
Drinks  the  solemn  light. 

On  her  parted  lips, 

Lost  in  slumber,  lies 
The  unuttered  word 

Out  of  Paradise. 


EARTH 

RASSHOPPER,  your  fairy  song 

And  my  poem  alike  belong 
To  the  dark  and  silent  earth 
From  which  all  poetry  has  birth; 
All  we  say  and  all  we  sing 
Is  but  as  the  murmuring 
Of  that  drowsy  heart  of  hers 
When  from  her  deep  dream  she  stirs: 
If  we  sorrow,  or  rejoice, 
You  and  I  are  but  her  voice. 

Deftly  does  the  dust  express 
In  mind  her  hidden  loveliness, 
And  from  her  cool  silence  stream 
The  cricket's  cry  and  Dante's  dream; 
For  the  earth  that  breeds  the  trees 
Breeds  cities  too,  and  symphonies. 
Equally  her  beauty  flows 
Into  a  savior,  or  a  rose — 
Looks  down  in  dream,  and  from  above 
Smiles  at  herself  in  Jesus'  love. 
Christ's  love  and  Homer's  art 
5 


EARTH 

Are  but  the  workings  of  her  heart; 
Through  Leonardo's  hand  she  seeks 
Herself,  and  through  Beethoven  speaks 
In  holy  thunderings  around 
The  awful  message  of  the  ground. 

The  serene  and  humble  mold 
Does  in  herself  all  selves  enfold — 
Kingdoms,  destinies,  and  creeds, 
Great  dreams,  and  dauntless  deeds, 
Science  that  metes  the  firmament, 
The  high,  inflexible  intent 
Of  one  for  many  sacrificed — 
Plato's  brain,  the  heart  of  Christ; 
All  love,  all  legend,  and  all  lore 
Are  in  the  dust  forevermore. 

Even  as  the  growing  grass 
Up  from  the  soil  religions  pass, 
And  the  field  that  bears  the  rye 
Bears  parables  and  prophecy. 
Out  of  the  earth  the  poem  grows 
Like  the  lily,  or  the  rose; 
And  all  man  is,  or  yet  may  be, 
Is  but  herself  in  agony 
6 


EARTH 

Toiling  up  the  steep  ascent 
Toward  the  complete  accomplishment 
When  all  dust  shall  be,  the  whole 
Universe,  one  conscious  soul. 

Yea,  the  quiet  and  cool  sod 

Bears  in  her  breast  the  dream  of  God. 

If  you  would  know  what  earth  is,  scan 
The  intricate,  proud  heart  of  man, 
Which  is  the  earth  articulate, 
And  learn  how  holy  and  how  great, 
How  limitless  and  how  profound 
Is  the  nature  of  the  ground — 
How  without  terror  or  demur 
We  may  entrust  ourselves  to  her 
When  we  are  wearied  out,  and  lay 
Our  faces  in  the  common  clay. 

For  she  is  pity,  she  is  love, 
All  wisdom,  she,  all  thoughts  that  move 
About  her  everlasting  breast 
Till  she  gathers  them  to  rest: 
All  tenderness  of  all  the  ages, 
Seraphic  secrets  of  the  sages, 
7 


EARTH 

Vision  and  hope  of  all  the  seers, 
All  prayer,  all  anguish,  and  all  tears 
Are  but  the  dust,  that  from  her  dream 
Awakes,  and  knows  herself  supreme — 
Are  but  earth,  when  she  reveals 
All  that  her  secret  heart  conceals 
Down  in  the  dark  and  silent  loam, 
Which  is  ourselves,  asleep,  at  home. 

Yea,  and  this,  my  poem,  too, 
Is  part  of  her  as  dust  and  dew, 
Wherein  herself  she  doth  declare 
Through  my  lips,  and  say  her  prayer. 


8 


SEPTEMBER    BY    THE    SEA 

rE  morning  makes  a  light  upon  the  sea, 
Curving  before  me,  like  a  crescent  moon, 
With  slender  violet  waves  that  gradually 
Kindle  into  the  fiery  fields  of  noon. 

Line  upon  line,  out  to  the  farthest  rim 

They  reach  immeasurably,  pale  as  the  breast 

Of  a  sick  child,  and  tremulous  and  dim, 

Save  where  the  wind  has  kissed  them  out  of  rest 

So  hard  it  leaves  a  mark  all  foam  and  white. 

O  delicate,  violet,  autumnal  sea, 
Like  a  wide  field  made  for  the  sheer  delight 

Of  the  cold  wind  to  walk  on,  and  be  free, 

Like  a  clear  harp  made  for  the  eager  hands 
Of  the  September  wind,  chilly  and  pale ! 

There  is  a  wistfulness  about  the  lands 

When  summer  ebbs  and  all  the  flowers  fail. 

Therefore  I  come  to  you  that  guard  and  keep, 
O  changeless  one,  the  memories  of  all  things, 
9 


SEPTEMBER    BY    THE    SEA 

The  dreams  of  all  the  world  in  the  vast  sleep 
Of  the  pale  waters,  drowsy  with  murmurings. 

Here  deep  Eternity  has  conquered  Time, 
No  trace  of  ruthless  autumn  lingers  here; 

But  on  the  shore  the  roses  cease  to  climb, 
And  fading  wings  ebb  with  the  tidal  year. 

Love  leaves  the  body,  as  summer  leaves  the  lands, 
But  the  waves,  like  the  heart,  remembering  moan; 

Therefore  I  sit  beside  you  on  the  sands 

That  I  may  mix  my  memories  with  your  own: 

And  the  wide,  level  fields  of  the  flat  sea, 

Always  the  same,  reach  to  the  farthest  bound, 

With  waves  lifting  and  lapsing  wearily — 
And  the  eternal  heavens  all  around. 


10 


THE    LONELY    POET 

NOW,  while  the  loom  of  evening  spins 
Her  veil,  the  parable  begins, 
And  God  with  weariless  delight 
Repeats  anew  the  poem  of  night. 

Softly,  softly  flows  along 
The  rhythm  of  the  eternal  song — 
In  tremor  of  light  and  shade  is  heard 
The  lonely  Poet's  laboring  word. 

Against  the  music  of  the  shrill 
Grasshopper,  and  the  starry  trill 
Of  the  cicadas'  cry,  the  lone 
Cricket's  harp  makes  drowsy  drone. 

And  one  pale  star  upon  the  breast 
Of  lingering  twilight  in  the  west 
Trembles,  far  over  in  profound 
Rapture  of  light  the  stars  are  drowned. 

The  cup  of  beauty  to  the  brim 
Is  filled  with  cloudy  song  and  dim 
11 


THE    LONELY    POET 

Shadow  of  moonlight,  everywhere 

From  earth  to  heaven  ascends  the  prayer. 

O  Master,  is  it  not  enough ! 
But  no,  the  insatiate  heart  of  Love, 
The  Poet's  heart,  for  sheer  excess 
Heaps  loveliness  on  loveliness. 

Hark — from  the  leafy  hill  near  by 
The  owlet  wakes,  and  pours  his  cry 
Into  the  poem  of  night !     Now  grows 
Beauty  too  great.     Heaven  overflows. 


STORM    AND    SUN 

OLOVE,  now  the  herded  billows  over  the  holy  plain 
Of  the  trampled  sea  move  thunderously,  and  cast 
Their  wrath  on  the  dark  shore — let  us  set  out  again, 
Let  us  make  seaward,  and  be  gone  at  last 

Into  the  choiring,  clashing,  wild  waste  of  waters  strown 
Around  us, — forward — forward — ,  and  leave  behind 

The  little  frets  and  the  fevers,  just  we  two  alone, 
Heart-free,  as  once  in  days  long  out  of  mind ! 

Forget  the  city  and  all  its  troubles,  leave  forever 
Our  dusty  ways!     The  Eternal  'round  us  rolled 

Shall  wash  us  white  of  the  little  sins  and  fears  that  sever, 
Lave  us,  and  leave  us  lovers  as  of  old — 

Lovers  as  once  in  golden  days  gone  by,  till  sorrow 

Fall  from  us  like  a  robe,  the  martyrdom 
Of  life  on  the  daily  rack:  there  shall  be  no  Tomorrow, 
Nor  Yesterday,   but   heaven   and   ocean. — Sweetheart, 
come 

13 


STORM    AND    SUN 

And  on  the  swelling  pillow  of  the  Unbounded  lean 

Your  cheek,  all  fiery  now — O  let  us  press 
Forward,  the  changeful  furrows  of  the  flashing  foam  be 
tween, 

Our  glowing  bodies  into  the  Loveliness ! 

The  waves  shatter,  the  billows  break  us,  the  sullen  wrath 
Of  the  surf  beats  down  our  foreheads.    Line  on  line 

Rises  the  majesty  of  the  sea  to  oppose  our  path 
With  tingling  bodies  through  the  stinging  brine; 

But  in  our  jubilant  breasts  the  embattled  life  at  bay 
Exults  fiercely  for  joy,  the  waves  cry  out 

And  shout  in  answering  joy,  the  salt  and  savage  spray 
Showers  our  shoulders  in  the  exuberant  bout, 

Where  we  press  forward,  laughing  for  lusty  love,  and  the 

hollows 

Receive  us  and  rise,  the  foam  of  the  breaker's  crest 
Unfolds  like  a  flower  and  dies  of  its  kiss,  and  subsides,  and 

follows, 
Laughing  and  loving,  where  our  limbs  have  pressed: 

Till  in  the  lustrous  shadow  of  the  last  wave  before  us 
We  bow,  and  from  the  rolling  billow's  might 

14 


STORM    AND    SUN 

Lift  glimmering  eyelids  up,  while  hearts  and  lips  in  chorus 
Mingle  with  winds  and  waters  their  delight. 

Far — far — where  the  sea-bird  sinks  weary  wings  at  last 
Before  the  wrath  of  the  wings  of  the  wind,  the  sea 

Makes  moan,  the  inconsolable,  pale  waters  are  aghast, 
And  shudder  with  dread  of  their  own  immensity. 

They  murmur  with  one  another,  the  voice  of  their  vast 
prayer 

Sinks  down  in  supplication,  and  the  sleep 
Of  the  Supreme  is  stirred  to  whispers  everywhere — 

The  dark  and  divine  sorrows  of  the  Deep. 

Where  the  heads  of  the  sea  were  holy  and  lifted  in  wrath 

divine 

Now  broods  the  silence,  heaven  holds  its  breath, — 
Where  the  feet  of  the  winds  made  music  far  out  to  the  lone 

sea-line, — 
The  rapture  and  awe  and  silence  as  of  death! 

Hark — how  the  lonely  sea-bird  screams  above  the  surges 
And  inland  reaches !    Now,  far  out,  we  roam 

The  desert  and  dumb  vast  of  the  dread  sea  that  urges 
Our  fitful  course  far  out  beyond  the  foam, 

15 


STORM    AND    SUN 

Toward  the  most  pallid  rim  of  cloudy  noonday  steering 
Steadily,  while  the  fluent  glooms  and  grave 

Lap  us  and  lift,  repulse,  and  pause — the  wild  and  veering 
Will  of  the  loving  and  reluctant  wave. 

The  sombre  and  immense  breast  of  the  huge  sea 
Lifts  in  long  lines  of  beauty,  the  supreme 

Bosom  with  its  vast  love  rises  resistlessly, 
And  lapses  in  long  lines  into  its  dream. 

Lone  to  the  last  marge — lone — lone — lone — 
And  void  to  where  the  huddled  waters  crowd 

The  brim — along  the  floor  of  heaven's  darkened  throne 
Moves,  like  a  ghost,  the  shadow  of  a  cloud. 

Shadow  and  light  pass  over  shifting,  shine  and  shade 

Vanish  and  veer,  upon  the  chilly  rim 
Kindle  like  crowns  the  cloud-crests  along  the  east  arrayed 

And  swords  of  flame,  like  swords  of  the  seraphim. 

The  floors  of  the  sea  catch  fire,  the  eye  of  the  world's  light 
Dilates,  and  into  a  glory  of  glittering  gold 

Break  the  pale  greens  and  purples;  the  sun  in  heaven's  height 
Unveils  himself  for  all  men  to  behold 

And  all  the  world  is  a-riot,  behind  us  and  before, 

With  fire  and  color — the  heavens  roll  back  their  gloom, 

16 


STORM    AND    SUN 

From  zone  to  zone,  from  the  zenith  to  the  everlasting  floor, 
Reaches  one  resonant  and  radiant  room — 

Light ! — Light !    The  astounded,  far  fields  of  ocean  shine 
Sheer  gold  and  shimmering  amber:  where  we  take 

The  lips  of  the  wave  with  laughter  your  eyes  are  turned  to 

mine, 
Sweetheart,  your  eyes  that  burn  for  beauty's  sake. 

They  tremble  with  happy  tears  and  little  words  unspoken 
Trouble  your  lips;  dumbly,  dumbly  we  know 

Something  starry  and  strange,  that  the  world's  wheel  has 

broken, 
Come  back  to  us  out  of  the  long-ago. 

Put  out  your  hand.    O  cleave  the  clasp  of  the  close  wave, 
turning 

Its  fire  to  flowers !     Put  out  your  hand,  and  move 
Forward  into  the  radiant  far  reaches  'round  us  burning, 

Darling,  as  once  in  the  old  days  of  love. 

Our  hearts  drink  the  wrath  and  the  wonder,  the  breath  of 

the  boundless  spaces 

Hallows  our  foreheads,  the  exceeding  might 
Of  moving  waters  around  us  is  music,  and  on  our  faces 
The  glory  of  God  is  shed,  His  holy  light ! 

17 


THANKS  FROM  EARTH  TO 
HEAVEN 


OD  pours  for  me  His  draught  divine,  — 

Moonlight,  which  is  the  poet's  wine, 
He  has  made  this  perfect  night 
For  my  wonder  and  delight. 

What  is  it  He  would  declare 
In  this  beauty  everywhere  — 
What  dearest  thought  of  His  is  heard 
In  the  moonlight's  secret  word? 

To  the  human,  the  Supreme 
Poet  speaks  in  wind  and  stream, 
Tenderly  He  does  express 
His  meaning  in  each  loveliness. 

Simply  does  He  speak  and  clear, 
As  man  to  man,  His  message  dear  — 
Aye  —  and  well  enough  He  knows 
Who  shall  understand  His  rose! 
18 


THANKS  FROM  EARTH  TO  HEAVEN 

Night  is  but  His  parable 
Secretly  where  He  would  tell, 
As  to  an  intimate  of  His, 
The  mystery  of  all  that  is; 

Nor  humblest,  nor  most  exquisite 
Detail  or  phrase  does  He  omit 
From  His  great  poem,  confident 
It  shall  be  noted  what  He  meant. 

And  cunningly  doth  still  devise 
New  Aprils  for  His  poet's  eyes 
For  whose  joy  all  things  were  wrought, 
That  without  him  were  as  nought. 

Holy  Poet,  I  have  heard 
Thy  lost  music,  Thy  least  word; 
Not  Thy  beauty's  tiniest  part 
Has  escaped  this  loving  heart ! 

While  the  great  world  goes  its  way 
I  watch  in  wonder  all  the  day, 
All  the  night  my  spirit  sings 
For  the  loveliness  of  things. 
19 


THANKS  FROM  EARTH  TO  HEAVEN 

But  for  lonely  men  like  me 
It  were  wasted  utterly 
All  this  beauty,  vainly  spent, — 
Unavailing  lavishment. 

Little  cricket,  never  fear, 
There  is  one  who  waits  to  hear — 
Nor  is  there  loveliness  so  shy 
It  shall  escape  a  poet's  eye. 

For  the  world  enough  it  were 
To  have  a  useful  earth  and  bare, 
But  for  poets  it  is  made 
All  in  loveliness  arrayed. 

For  his  eye  the  little  moth 
Wears  her  coat  of  colored  cloth, 
And  to  please  his  ear  the  deep 
Ocean  murmurs  in  her  sleep. 

Rustle  gently  in  the  breeze 
For  his  delight  the  poplar  trees, 
And  in  the  song  within  his  head 
The  thanks  from  earth  to  heaven  is  said. 
20 


MIDNIGHT 

NOW  in  the  still 
Shadow  and  glamour  of  the  departed  sun 
Beauty's  immortal  ritual  is  done, 
The  divine  word  and  will. 

Now,  lost  in  lone 

Worship  and  breathless  adoration,  lies 
The  loving  at  the  beloved  breast  and  cries 

His  prayer  up  to  her  throne. 

Now  thrills  the  dim 

Heart  of  compassionate  and  conquering  love 
With  solemn  pride,  and  from  her  throne  above 

Listens,  and  leans  to  him. 

No  sound  is  here. 

Mysteriously  the  many  are  made  one. — 
O  peace,  now  the  eternal  will  is  done, 

And  God's  own  heart  how  near ! 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 


meadows  miles  around, 
Drenched  with  dew  and  drowsy  sound, 
Drink  the  moonlight  and  the  dream. 
Veiled  in  mists  the  lowlands  seem, 
Through  wild  ways  and  fragrant  aisles 
Of  the  country,  miles  on  miles, 
Drifting  cloudlike  without  will, 
And  soft  mist  is  on  the  hill. 

Everywhere  earth's  shrill  delight 

Shakes  and  shimmers  through  the  night. 

Silver  tides  of  music  flow 

'Round  the  world;  the  cricket's  low 

Harp,  the  starry  ecstasy 

Of  the  keen  cicadas'  cry 

With  "I  love,  I  love,  I  love," 

To  the  cloudless  moon  above 

Lifts  the  old,  the  endless  songt 

And  the  firefly  among 

The  low  boughs  and  heavy  leaves 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

His  hushed  flight  in  silence  weaves: 
Deeper  than  the  love  they  sing, 
The  unutterable  thing, 
The  sheer  pang  wherewith  he  glows. 
Burns  his  body  as  he  goes. 

Now  earth  draws  the  trembling  veil 
From  her  bosom  cloudy  pale, 
And  the  bridegroom  of  the  night 
Flows  to  her  in  solemn  light — 
Memories  of  the  absent  sun 
Dreaming  of  his  lovely  one. 

From  that  fiery  embrace 
Wearied  out,  with  lifted  face, 
Tangled  hair,  and  dewy  eyes, 
Drowsed  and  murmurous  she  lies 
In  the  bride-sleep,  the  deep  bliss 
After  some  exalted  kiss, 
Swooning  through  the  darkness  dim; 
Still  with  memories  of  him 
Her  hmhed  breath  comes  fierce  and  low, 
And  the  love  that  thrilled  her  so 
Speaks  in  slumber,  from  her  lips 
The  deep  word  of  longing  slips. 
23 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

Fragrant  is  thy  flowery  hair, 
O  beloved,  everywhere 
Thy  faint  odour  on  the  air, 
From  dread  arches  of  thy  grace 
Wafted,  what  dark,  secret  place 
Of  dusk  tresses  in  the  wild 
Midnight  of  thy  locks  beguiled, 
Beckoning  vistas  of  thy  sheer 
Maddening  loveliness,  the  dear 
Curves  of  thy  bright  beauty,  all 
Lure  me  to  wild  love: — the  call 
Of  past  lives  is  in  my  breast, 
Premonitions,  dimly  guessed, 
Of  seraphic,  solemn  things, 
Mingled  lips  and  murmurings 
On  cool  nights  that  gave  me  birth. 
Yet,  O  mother,  awful  earth ! 
What  stark  mystery  no  less 
Breaks  the  bosom  that  I  press 
Close  against  thy  carelessness. 

Where  the  holy  poem  of  night 
In  veiled  music  and  moonlight, 
Shimmering  cries  and  stars  and  dreams, 
Onward  in  soft  rhythm  streams, 
24 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

With  reluctant  pulse  and  pause 
To  its  lovely  ending  draws 
Thy  long  passion,  when  unroll 
The  starred  heavens,  like  a  scroll, 
The  old  parable  and  story, 
Some  transcendent  allegory — 
Mother,  mother,  yet  I  know 
Of  cool  nights  that  whispered  so 
When  I  was  not,  long  ago ! 
When  thy  beauty,  murmuring  low, 
With  abandon,  like  a  bride, 
Throws  her  glimmering  veils  aside, 
The  dread  love  I  dare  not  say 
Turns  my  trembling  lips  away, 
Something  deeper,  something  more 
Than  I  ever  guessed  before, 
A  new  homesickness  at  heart 
Hungering  for  the  home  thou  art; 
As  the  rivers  to  the  one 
Sea  with  solemn  longing  run, 
So  my  being  to  thy  breast, 
So  my  sorrow  to  thy  rest. 

Thou  art  mother,  thou  art  bride, 
By  what  dearer  name  beside 
25 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

Must  I  name  thee,  must  I  call, 
Who  art  dearer  far  than  all? 

On  thy  heart  I  lay  my  head — 
O  what  is  it  thou  hast  said ! — 
Secret,  beautiful  and  dread — 
Lovely  moment  drawing  near — 
Thought,  most  terrible  and  dear: 
To  be  one  with  thy  complete 
Dark,  sweet  loveliness,  my  sweet, 
One  with  thy  wild  will  again — 
To  descend  in  rushing  rain 
To  thy  ravished  breast,  to  pour 
Through  the  veins  that  I  adore, — 
Drink  deep  draughts  of  thee,  and  grow, 
Through  long  love  and  longing,  so 
Into  the  beloved,  flow 
In  thy  deepest  pulse,  at  home 
In  the  dark  and  silent  loam 
Drenched  with  thee,  and  tremble  up 
In  the  lily's  lifted  cup — 
Odours,  clouds,  and  starry  haze, 
Breath  of  the  wet  country  ways 
On  cool,  moon-clear,  fragrant  nights; 
Or  where  thy  supreme  delight's 
26 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

Radiant  passion  draws  aghast 

Sobs  of  thunder  through  the  Vast — 

Shuddering  breath  and  murmur  of 

Thy  fierce  wrath  of  sullen  love — 

Laughter  of  thy  mingling  heart — 

In  thy  lifted  lightnings  dart 

Through  awed  heaven's  glimmering  bound, 

With  bright  laughter  all  around, 

With  dark  tears  into  the  ground 

Glide,  and  slake  with  loving  rain 

The  parched  caverns  of  thy  pain! 

Rapturous  bridal !     O  wild  heart ! 
To  be  part  of  thee,  a  part 
Of  this  holy  beauty  here — 
Sacred  sorrow  drawing  near ! 
Sweet  surrender — O  my  sweet, 
Longingly  my  pulses  beat — 
Dazzling  thought  and  fearful  of 
The  dear  fury  of  thy  love — 
Even  now  that  draws  me  down, 
My  faint  body  to  thine  own, 
Near  and  nearer  yet,  till  I 
Tangled  in  thy  being  lie, 
Close  and  close,  for  sheer  excess 
27 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

Wearied  out  with  loveliness: 
All  this  little  self,  this  me, 
Soothed  into  the  self  of  thee, 
Rendered  up  in  ecstasy! 

Almost  now  thou  seem'st  to  steal 
From  my  breast  the  self.     I  feel 
How  my  being  everywhere, 
As  in  dream,  upon  the  air 
Widens  'round  me,  till  I  grow 
All  I  look  on,  overflow — ; 
And  into  the  life  adored 
All  the  life  of  me  is  poured, 
Through  warm  portals  of  thy  heart 
Drifting  gently  where  thou  art, 
Who  art  all  things,  in  the  breeze 
Stirring  all  the  tangled  trees 
To  low  whispers,  how  I  pass 
Through  each  tiny  blade  of  grass, 
Tremble  in  moonlight,  and  rise 
Looking  out  of  other  eyes — 
Mystery  of  mysteries ! 
Pang  of  self,  and  tragical 
Birth  into  the  enlightened  All — 
O  dark  rapture — to  flow,  press, 
28 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

Cease  into  thy  loveliness, 
With  exalted  weariness 
Render  up  myself,  and  be, 
Selfless,  the  dear  self  of  thee, 
In  divine  oblivion 
One  with  the  beloved  one ! 

Where  I  press  my  burning  face 
Weeds  and  grasses  interlace: 
Sweetheart,  are  these  dewy,  soft 
Tears  for  me,  who  must  so  oft 
Perish  of  thee  to  be  thine  ? 
Deep  I  drink  of  you,  divine 
Dizzy  draught,  bewildering  wine  I 

In  the  grass  my  head  is  bowed. 
The  vague  moon  is  in  a  cloud. 
From  my  breast  I  feel  it  stream. 
All  I  loved  so,  like  a  dream — . 
Ah,  I  cannot  understand, 
But  the  wind  is  like  a  hand 
On  my  forehead  in  caress, 
And  the  earth  is  tenderness, — 
Holy,  grave,  and  very  wise — 
The  deep  tears  are  in  her  eyes; 
29 


THE    MOONLIGHT    SONATA 

While  around  her  sleeplessly 

Shrills  the  restless  will-to-be. 

Passion  for  eternity 

Shakes  in  sound,  and  floats  in  light 

Through  the  darkness.     Through  the  night 

Clouds,  and  dreams,  and  fireflies, 

And  my  songs  of  her  arise. 


30 


DAWN    ON    MID-OCEAN 

VEILED  are  the  heavens,  veiled  the  throne, 
The  sacred  spaces  of  the  vast 
And  virgin  sea  make  sullen  moan 

Into  the  Void  whence  God  has  passed. 

With  His  right  hand  He  wakened  it, 

The  sorrowing  Deep,  to  sweet  dismay, — 

And  sighed;  with  His  left  hand  He  lit 

The  stars  in  heaven,  and  took  His  way, 

Leaving  this  loveliness  behind: 

The  inconsolable  Vacancy 
Bears  witness  in  the  veiled  night  and  blind 

To  some  depa'rted  Mystery. 

Disconsolate  for  One  withdrawn, 

Moan  the  vague  mouths.    One  cold  and  clear 
Star,  like  a  lamp,  in  the  pale  dawn 

Trembles  for  passion :  God  was  here ! 


31 


DEAR    EARTH 

DEAR  Earth,  thy  soft  and  murmurous  voice  I  hear, 
Thy  drowsy  cry  of  inarticulate  love 
Drawing  me  downward  to  thy  breast,  above 
Thy  drowsy  breast  I  bend  in  joy  and  fear. 

Fragrant  and  dewy  are  thy  locks,  dread  bliss 

Breathes  from  thy  body's  arches.     Sweet,  I  kneel, 
And  all  the  senses  from  my  spirit  steal. 

Upon  thy  breasts  I  lay  my  reverent  kiss. 

But  look — the  hand  of  moonlight  for  a  fleet 
Moment  the  dim  and  cloudy  veil  divides — 
Glimmers  thy  holy  body  like  a  bride's — 

My  beautiful, — my  dark-eyed  love, — my  sweet ! 

Darling,  deep  of  thy  dewy  tears  I  drink, — 
Too  fain  of  thee,  alas,  too  full  of  thee, 
Faints  of  thyself  my  being  utterly — 

Sweetheart,  into  thine  arms  in  death  I  sink. 


GOLDEN    NOON 

NOW  part  the  heavens  in  cloudless  glory, 
And  the  wide  eye  of  the  world's  light 
Reopens,  like  a  flower  dilating, 

And  floods  the  world  with  golden  might. 

Rose  of  the  heaven !     Heavy  flower 

In  the  clean  meadows  of  the  sky ! 
Shed  forth  the  odour  of  thy  splendour, 

Thy  dazzled  perfume  from  on  high. 

The  massive  thunder  of  thy  music 

Makes  holy  harmonies  afar, 
The  starry  mouths  are  mute  before  thee, 

O  sumptuous  and  sovereign  star ! 

Great  chords  of  light,  gigantic,  shaken 
With  heavy  vibrance  and  immense — 

The  gorgeous  trumpets  of  thy  zenith 
And  noon  of  thy  magnificence ! 

Though  soundless  to  the  sensual  hearing, 

With  sonant  light  thrilled  through  and  through- 
33 


GOLDEN    NOON 

Thine  awful  and  august  desire 

On  horns  of  gold  blown  down  the  Blue ! 

Priest  of  the  world,  in  radiance  folded 

And  veils  of  blue  Immensity ! 
Shed  thy  triumphant  light  before  us 

And  trail  thy  robes  across  the  sea. 

Shadows  and  star-beams  fly  before  thee, 

The  level  floors  of  the  blue  Vast 
With  lapse  of  trampling  waves  adore  thee, 

And  the  soft  twilight  thrills  aghast. 

Like  phantoms,  or  like  ghosts,  dividing 
Before  thy  forehead's  flame,  they  flee — 

Darkness  and  dreams  in  shifting  hollows, 
And  shadow-clouds  across  the  sea, 

When  on  the  wave  of  morning  steering 

Breaks  'round  the  world  thy  steady  prow; 

In  rosy  foam  of  light  unfolding 

Heaven's  billowing  deeps  dissolve.     But  now 

The  mellow  fields  lie  hushed  and  helpless 
Beneath  thy  most  enormous  might, 
34 


GOLDEN    NOON 

And  the  crushed  earth  bleeds  oozy  color 
And  golden  drippings  of  thy  light 

Beneath  that  steady  weight  and  wonder, 

Thy  ponderous  glory  over  all. 
What  solemn  silence  goes  before  thee 

Where  all  the  woods  were  musical ! 

0  Father !     Though  I  may  not  see  thee, 

Nor  save  through  tears  to  thy  blurred  face 

Lift  up  mine  eyes,  O  blurred  and  golden ! 
Hear  now  my  prayer,  and  grant  me  grace. 

Pour  through  my  heart  thy  cleansing  fire, 
That  only  is  unknown  of  thee — 

Make  broad  my  breast  as  the  horizon, 
And  spacious  as  the  sunlit  sea; 

Till  all  my  life  is  searched  and  riven 

With  eager  ardor  of  thine  own: 
Till  from  horizon  to  horizon 

And  blazing  zone  to  blazing  zone 

The  trumpets  of  thy  light  are  sounded, 
And  the  wide  heavens  clear  of  gloom, 

Clean-swept,  are  blinded  and  bedazzled, 
And  bared  for  thee  one  radiant  room ! 
35 


MOONLIT    EARTH 

THE  quiet  earth  in  cool  felicity, 
With  listless  lips  that  all  day  long  implored 
Rest  of  the  sun,  her  lover  and  her  lord, 
Sleeps  in  the  moonlight  of  his  memory: 
Though  far  from  her,  though  vanished  utterly 
Down  fiery  spaces,  still  his  love  is  poured 
Backward  in  dream  upon  the  most  adored, 
With  holy  moonlight  haunting  land  and  sea. 

Still  to  that  heart  of  darling  love  he  yearns 

Homeward  in  light,  while  from  lost  yesterday 

Upon  her  face  his  lonely  kisses  fall; 
Remembering,  remembering,  he  returns 

To  the  dear  place,  and  sheds  from  far  away 
The  moonlight  of  his  memory  over  all. 


36 


SUMMER    DAWN 

HERE,  in  the  pallid  chamber,  where  I  lie, 
Out  of  the  hungry  hollows  of  the  night 
There  comes  a  sombre  and  an  ancient  cry — 
Dawn  flowers  up  along  the  windy  sky, 
Immense  and  white. 

Laughable  sadness  fills  me  silently: 

Ever  unto  my  spirit,  whip-poor-will, 
You  are  the  wail  of  days  that  used  to  be, 
The  voice  of  my  lost  childhood  calling  me 
Beyond  the  hill. 


DEPARTURE 

ONE  last  look,  and  then — farewell  to  you  forever, 
Room  that  I  have  loved,  dearest  place  of  all ! 
Softly  through  the  window  pours  the  lonely  moonlight 
Slumbers  on  the  bed,  slumbers  on  the  wall. 

Faint  in  glimmering  fields  the  grasshoppers  are  shrilling 
As  on  nights  of  old,  and  a  cricket,  too, 

Bravely  his  one  note  drones  solemnly  and  slowly, — 
Branches  in  the  light  droop  all  drenched  with  dew. 

Here  is  the  low  table  where  we  laughed  together, 
Chairs,  where  we  have  sat,  huddle  side  by  side: 

In  the  quiet  night-time  the  old  house  is  musing 

Deep  on  vanished  days,  and  old  dreams  that  died. 

Where  my  youth  has  sorrowed  now  lies  only  moonlight, 
— Moonlight  on  the  bed — moonlight  on  the  floor — , 

And  across  the  pillow  where  your  head  lay  dreaming, 
O  my  lost  beloved, — moonlight  evermore — . 


38 


II 

APRIL    LIGHTNING 


In  the  harsh  world  of  effort  and  of  pain 
And  many  a  buffet  rude,  the  lands  of  death 
And  fierce  survival,  see, — in  the  little  room 
Sits  the  one  kind,  the  one  consoling  thing — • 
Where  your  beloved  with  brave  beauty  dear, 
Frail  body  swaying,  and  laughing  lips  of  lovet 
Lures  your  sad  heart  to  the  most  fugitive  joy. 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


APRIL  was  in  the  air, 
Your  sweet  lips  whispered,  "Take!" 
Bravely  you  bade  love's  will 
Be  done  for  love's  own  sake. 

The  Spring  was  full  of  kindness, 
And  the  heaven  in  your  eyes, — 

Bravely  you  bowed  and  accepted 
Spring's  loveliest  sacrifice. 

And  all  your  life  in  flower, 

Dear,  to  my  very  own, 
As  the  meadows  to  the  Springtime, 

Lay  graciously  overthrown. 


41 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


II 


MY  sweet  is  a  thief;  all  life,  all  love,  all  song, 
From  the  loved  breast  into  her  own  she  steals- 
Life  hastens  unto  the  breast  where  life  belongs, 
As  a  faint  moth  that  toward  a  flower  reels. 

Her  body's  vehement  loveliness  and  light 

All  joy,  all  love,  all  hope,  all  song,  all  power, 

To  be  wasted  across  the  chalice  of  her  life, 

Lures  with  soft  beauty,  like  an  unfolding  flower. 

Love  is  her  beauty's  slave  that  she  compels 

To  be  wasted  upon  her  sweetness  night  and  day — , 

O  Loveliness  lures  Love  to  die  for  her, 

Beauty  lures  Love  to  give  himself  away ! 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


III 

O  THRILL  to  the  core  of  my  pulses, 
Dear,  with  your  very  own ! 
Let  me  drink  in  around  me 
No  self  but  yours  alone, — 

Feel  you,  and  breathe  you,  and  live  you, 

Till  the  penetrant  loveliness 
Even  to  the  deep  core 

Pervade  me  and  possess ! 

Till  quickened  and  drenched  with  your  spirit, 

Saturate  through  and  through, 
I  tremble  into  your  being, 

Myself  no  more, — but  you  I 


43 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


IV 

TOVELY  night  that  drawest  near, 
1— '     Thou  art  terrible  and  dear, — 
With  the  thought  of  thee  at  noon, 
Sweet  and  dread,  my  senses  swoon. 

With  the  thought  of  the  dear  might, 
Her  bared  beauty  in  the  night, 
That  fierce  sweetness  unsubdued, 
Her  wild  ways  in  wayward  mood. 

O  my  own,  what  must  be  done 
For  thy  sake,  beloved  one, 
Ere  the  morning,  to  fulfill 
The  young  ardors  of  thy  will ! 

My  blood  trembles,  my  heart's  beat 
Shakes,  the  life  of  me,  my  sweet, 
To  thy  life  lies  overthrown, 
That  must  give  thee  all  his  own. 

Idly  the  long  hours  stray, 
The  long  twilight  of  the  day 
44 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 

Faints,  and  dies  for  sheer  excess 
Of  the  evening's  loveliness!. 

In  the  self  beloved  he  gives 
All  his  self  away — and  lives: 
Nearer  is  the  hour  sped, 
The  dear  beauty,  dark  and  dread. 

So  my  spirit  utterly 
Faints  for  thee,  and  dies  of  thee, 
That  must  be,  ere  morning  shine, 
One  with  thee,  and  wholly  thine. 


45 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


V 

IN  that  moment, 
Before  at  your  heart  I  surrendered  myself  completely, 
Long,  long  did  I  look 
On  the  dear  and  the  inexorable  face; 
And  as  one  about  to  die 
Might  salute  the  conqueror,  so  I  kissed  it, 
Bowing  my  head,  and  heard 

The  voice  of  Life  from  your  breast  calling,  calling 
To  the  bright  doom. 


46 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


VI 


OYOU  are  wise  in  many  things, 
Between  your  languid  breath  and  breath 
Heaves  with  a  thousand  murmurings 
The  tidal  pulse  of  life  and  death. 

All  my  desire,  how  vain  it  is, 

And  all  desire — ah,  how  vain 
You  know,  yourself  have  felt  the  kiss, 

The  barren  pleasure,  and  the  pain; 

And  smilingly,  as  from  a  height, 

You  look  upon  me  far  below — 
And  half  in  pity,  half  in  fright, 

Lean  down  your  lips,  and  touch  me,  so. 


47 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


VII 

O  WEET,  why  will  you  still  refuse, 
^•J       Still  refrain,  and  still  delay ! 
Bow — and  let  the  old  kindness,  dear, 
Be  done  in  the  old  way. 

Bow  your  head,  and  let  the  brave 
Miracle  of  the  insistent  Spring 

Pass,  and  be  done  between  our  lips, 
Here  at  our  hearts  that  cling. 


48 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


VIII 

NOW,  the  stars  of  twilight 
One  by  one  depart — , 
Still  your  heart  in  slumber 
Trembles  at  my  heart. 

O  the  darling  beauty, 
Helpless  as  in  death ! 

Love,  for  reverent  rapture, 
Hardly  dares  draw  breath 

Lest  his  breathing  wake  you 

Into  grief  again — , 
Lovely  is  the  burden, 

Lovely  is  the  pain. 

Nightlong  will  I  bear  it, 
Sleepless,  at  my  breast, 

Not  to  stir  your  slumber — , 
Not  to  break  your  rest. 


49 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


IX 


EVEN  as  the  rose  her  beauty,  flower  by  flower, 
So  Life  sheds  love  with  rapture,  breath  by  breath; 
Blossoming  deathward,  we  give  ourselves  away 
At  the  dear  breast:  Love  is  the  path  to  Death. 

But  the  sweet  Springtime  body  lures  and  lures; 

Even  as  the  flowers,  our  very  youth  of  May 
We  render  up  at  the  beloved  breast, 

At  the  dear  breast  that  steals  it  all  away. 


50 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


IF,   reborn,   you   return 
To  the  earth  as  a  boy, 
As  a  girl  will  I  come 
To  renew  the  old  joy. 

O  the  eager  boy-face — 

The  dear  eyes  not  unknown — 
The  sweet,  opposite  strength 

That  makes  war  on  my  own ! 

What  grace  will  I  give  you, 

What  bounteousness, 
And  all  the  kind  joy 

And  the  love  I  possess — 

In  the  Spring,  in  the  Spring, 
When  the  hawthorne  is  white, 

In  the  midsummer  night, 
In  the  silence  of  night, 

As  you  give  me  them  now — , 
Though  the  lips  be  above, 
51 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 

Or  the  lips  be  below, 

They  shall  greet  you  with  love ! 

But  if  as  a  girl 

You  return  to  the  earth, 
As  a  boy  will  I  pass 

Through  the  portals  of  birth; 

Still  ever  to  be 

Through  all  cycles  of  breath, 
Through  the  soft  revolutions 

Of  life  and  of  death, 

Your  opposite  ever, 

Your  fate  and  dear  foe — , 
Though  the  lips  be  above, 

Or  the  lips  be  below. 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XI 

WHEN  your  eyes  are  closed  in  love 
Softlier  than  soft  lids  in  death 
Sealed  forever,  when  your  bosom 

Heaves  with  the  resistless  breath, — 

Ah,  when  beauty  is  overthrown, 

The  breast  shudders,  the  heart  sighs, 

Bending  over  them  I  behold, 

Closed  as  in  death,  your  love-closed  eyes ! 


53 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XII 

WITH  what  fierce  and  holy  longing, 
With  what  ecstasy  of  pain, 
Toward  each  other  that  we  need  so, 
Sweet,  we  rush,  we  haste  again ! 

From  the  fountain-heads  of  beauty, 
From  the  well-springs  of  delight 

With  fierce  rapture  rearisen, 

Each  on  each,  as  day  and  night 

For  the  opposite  dear  other 

Thirsting,  with  immortal  pain 

Slakes  the  loneliness  of  being 
In  the  self  beloved  again. 


54 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XIII 

SO  utterly  did  I  adore  thee 
That  darling  night  in  dear  embrace, 
Out  of  myself  my  longing  bore  me 

To  the  lost  home,  the  longed-for  place: 
And  I  became  thee,  my  soul  wore  thee 
As  her  own  body,  for  a  space ! 


55 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XIV 

T  DREAMED  I  passed  a  doorway 

Where,  for  a  sign  of  death, 
White  ribbons  one  was  binding 
About  a  flowery  wreath. 

What  drew  me  so  I  know  not, 

But  drawing  near  I  said, 
"Kind  sir,  and  can  you  tell  me 

Who  is  it  here  lies  dead  ?  " 

Said  he,  "Your  most  beloved 

Died  here  this  very  day, 
That  had  known  twenty  Aprils, 

Had  she  but  lived  till  May." 

Astonished  I  made  answer, 
"Good  sir,  how  say  you  so! 

Here  have  I  no  beloved, 

This  house  I  do  not  know." 

Quoth  he,  "Who  from  the  world's  end 
Was  destined  unto  thee 
56 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 

Here  lies,  thy  true  beloved, 
Whom  thou  shalt  never  see." 

I  dreamed  I  passed  a  doorway 
Where,  for  a  sign  of  death, 

White  ribbons  one  was  binding 
About  a  flowery  wreath. 


57 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XV 


TOVE,  for  the  world  your  pity,  or  the  gay 

*— '       Moods  of  your  careless  and  abundant  grace, 

The  language  of  the  laughter  of  your  face 
And  lips  of  luring  all  the  livelong  day. 

But,  sweet,  for  me  in  the  lost  night  and  lone 
The  sacred  frenzy  of  your  breast  of  love 
Where  the  inexorable  ardors  move, 

And  lips,  all  quivering,  salt  against  my  own ! 


58 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XVI 

ET  me  here  at  your  heart  weep  out  my  woe, 
All  the  wild  shame,  dear,  and  the  nameless  grief, 
Till  the  long  sigh  that  brings  the  soul  relief 
Sink  back,  and  sorrow  into  silence  flow. 

Where  should  I  turn  to,  if  not  here,  for  rest — 
Or  sorrow  save  at  the  source  of  sorrow  bare  ? 
But  O  the  gulf  'twixt  spirit  and  spirit  there — 

Alone  at  your  heart  I  lie,  alone  at  your  breast, 

While  the  lost  love  droops  dead  between !    Too  well 
I  know  there  is  no  loathlier  hell  than  this, 
Than  the  cold  touch  of  the  first  loveless  kiss; 

But  the  tears  fail  us  at  the  heart  of  hell. 

O  only  once,  'mid  all  the  thirst  of  the  years, 
To  glut  grief  at  the  bosom  that  might  make 
His  heaven  yet,  and  the  whole  heart  to  slake 

Once  only  with  the  wanton  waste  of  tears ! 


59 


HPH 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XVII 

E  weary  joy  and  the  familiar  peace 
Wherewith  we  close,  after  long  leagues  of  strife, 
Is  older  and  more  sorrowful  than  life. 


Up  the  sharp  scale  of  beauty  passion  runs, 
And  sinks,  after  the  rapture  and  the  pain, 
Into  the  grave  and  general  doom  again. 


60 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XVIII 

I  DO  not  love  to  see  your  beauty  fire 
The  light  of  eager  love  in  every  eye, 
Nor  the  unconscious  ardor  of  desire 

Mantle  a  cheek  when  you  are  passing  by; 
When  in  the  loud  world's  giddy  thoroughfare 

Your  holy  loveliness  is  noised  about — 
Lips  that  my  love  has  prayed  to — the  gold  hair 
Where  I  have  babbled  all  my  secrets  out — 

O  then  I  would  I  had  you  in  my  arms, 

Desolate,  lonely,  broken,  and  forlorn, 
Stripped  of  your  splendor,  spoiled  of  all  your  charms; 
So  that  my  love  might  prove  her  haughty  scorn — 
So  I  might  catch  you  to  my  heart,  and  prove 
'Tis  not  your  beauty  only  that  I  love ! 


61 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XIX 

I  THOUGHT  of  you  when  in  the  pallid  dawn 
Glimmered  day's  loveliest  and  loneliest  star, 
Infinitely  in  the  pale  blue  withdrawn, 

Touching  my  heart  with  beauty  from  afar; 
Where  bending  with  her  blossoms  the  white  spray, 

After  the  passing  of  a  sudden  shower, 
Trembled  all  dewy  in  the  wind  of  May— 

I  thought  of  your  white  loveliness  in  flower. 

And  once  in  the  deep  wonder  of  a  dream 

You  came  to  me,  and  your  clear  face  was  bowed 
Over  my  face,  like  light  on  a  dark  stream, 

And  your  soft  hair  fell  'round  me  like  a  cloud; 

And  then  I  woke — but  still,  when  you  were  gone, 
Like  music  in  my  heart  you  lingered  on. 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XX 


f^IS  not  your  darling  loveliness  alone 
„  *         That  draws  me,  the  proud  splendor  of  your  face, 
Beautiful  as  a  conqueror's  on  his  throne, 

Or  a  swift  runner's  in  an  eager  race; 
Not  that  carved  throat,  that  chalice  of  sweet  sound, 

Nor  eyes  that  are  the  heavens  of  my  prayer, 
Pale,  perfect  brows  from  many  a  conquest  crowned 

Victorious,  nor  the  halo  of  your  hair. 

These  the  dull  crowd  gape  after,  little  they 

Guess  the  still  lovelier  being  hid  from  view, 
The  pilgrim  in  this  prison-house  of  clay, 
Which  is  yourself,  the  very  soul  of  you — 

Whose  banner  Love  here  flings  to  heaven  unfurled, 
And  bares  his  shining  sword  to  all  the  world ! 


63 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXI 

T IFE  let  me  squander  and  lavish 
*-*      Recklessly,  without  rest, 
And  waste  myself  forever 

At  the  beloved  breast — 
As  Night  at  the  heart  of  Morning, 

To  become  her,  gives  up  breath- 
Faint,  as  at  Song's  heart  Silence, 

Lost,  as  at  Life's  heart  Death ! 


64 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXII 

FROM  my  own  lips  I  drink  your  tears; 
Their  taste  is  bitterer  than  gall. 
Is  this  the  end,  the  end  of  all? 

Is  this  the  summit  of  your  beauty, 
Your  beauty's  beauty  have  I  had? 
O  sweet,  and  yet  I  am  not  glad ! 


65 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXIII 

AH,  never  in  all  my  life 
Have  I  ever  fled  away 
From  the  loneliness  that  follows 
My  spirit  night  and  day. 

Though  I  fly  to  the  dearest  face, 
It  follows  without  rest — 

To  the  kind  heart  of  love 
And  the  beloved  breast. 

Though  I  walk  among  the  crowd, 

Still  I  walk  apart : 
Alone,  alone  I  lie 

Even  at  the  loved  one's  heart ! 


66 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXIV 

WHEN  the  old  evening  was  slowly  growing  gray 
My  restless  heart  would  leave  me  in  peace  no  more, 
And  I  arose  and  wandered  far,  far  away, 
As  I  had  done  a  thousand  times  before. 

And  when  I  had  wandered  far,  far  away, 

I  lifted  up  my  hands  in  loneliness  once  more, 

And  prayed  with  all  my  heart,  until  I  could  not  pray, 
As  I  had  done  a  thousand  times  before. 

I  prayed  with  all  my  heart,  until  I  could  not  pray, 
For  what  I  knew  could  be  never,  never  more, 

And  rose  up  in  bitterness,  and  slowly  came  away — 
As  I  had  done  a  thousand  times  before. 


67 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXV 

AjAIN  the  weary  longing 
Cries  out  in  me  for  rest, 
That  dreads,  and  yet  desires 
The  oblivion  of  your  breast. 

Alas,  too  well  he  knows  it — 
There  is  no  other  way — 

Again  he  must  die  to  love  you, 
As  darkness  dies  of  day. 

For  pity's  sake  be  cruel — 
Lean  down  your  lips  again, 

And  give  him  the  kind  death,  dear, 
That  puts  an  end  to  pain! 


68 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXVI 

THE  shivering  and  shining  waters  move 
Under  a  low  moon  in  the  windy  sky, 
The  stars  hang  pale  and  breathless  far  abov< 
O  to  be  killed  here  by  the  things  I  love, 
To  mix  with  all  this  beauty,  and  to  die ! 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXVII 

IVE  me  your  pitiful,  soft  hand,  and  lay 

Your  cheek  against  my  shoulder — let  your  head 
Rest  heavily,  and  your  loose  hair  be  shed 
Where  the  heart  breaks  with  what  it  cannot  say: 
Springtime  is  in  the  air,  the  winds  of  May 
Rustle  the  silken  curtains,  and  are  fled — 
Give  me  your  hand — ah,  let  no  word  be  said — 
Let  the  great  will  of  silence  have  its  way ! 

You  do  not  love  me.     And  at  last  I  know 
How  far  lies  the  lost  land  for  which  I  pine; 

But  in  the  lonely  passion  of  my  mood 
I  feel  your  pulses  toward  my  pulses  flow, 

And  the  dear  blood  that  through  your  hand  to  mine 
Whispers  her  pity  in  the  solitude. 


70 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXVIII 

WHY  wilt  thou  bow  thine  heart  to  mine,  and  shed 
Wild  tears  for  me,  as  for  one  already  dead  ? — 
Alas — and  am  I  already  dead  to  thee — 
O  sweet,  at  thine  heart,  here  at  thy  living  breast, 
Am  I  already  only  one  with  the  rest, 
A  ghost,  a  memory  ! 


71 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXIX 

YOU  were  the  instrument  on  which  I  played, 
Such  heavenly  music  from  your  heart  I  wrung 
And  echo,  where  on  the  strings  my  fingers  strayed, 
Of  a  new  song  that  never  yet  was  sung ! 

Now  you  have  left  me,  dear,  how  shall  I  bear, 
When  lesser  hands  over  the  chords  are  moved 

Of  that  most  exquisite  instrument,  to  hear 

All  harsh  and  jangled  the  great  song  I  loved? 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXX 

UNDER  your  window,  deep  in  the  heart  of  the  night, 
Something  is  crying  under  the  starry  sky, 
Between  the  going  night  and  the  growing  light, 
It  is  I,  it  is  I. 

Under  your  window  cries  without  quiet  or  rest, 

Something  that  cries,  with  the  hurrying  winds  that  cry, 

For  the  you  that  sleeps  deep  in  the  heart  of  your  breast; 
It  is  I,  it  is  I. 


73 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXI 

A  \  /"HEN  I  had  need  of  you,  you  would  not  hear; 
V  V        Now  that  amid  the  anguish  and  the  smart 
You  turn  to  me,  to  the  last  crack  of  doom 
I  will  not  fail, — O  dear  and  careless  heart ! 


74 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXII 

ONLY  yesterday  these  eyes 
Drank  your  loveliness  that  here 
Breathed  and  trembled — now  it  lies 
All  in  dust,  that  beauty  dear: 

In  the  darkness  of  the  grave 

Broken,  broken,  spoiled,  and  spent, — 
Like  an  unavailing  wave, 

On  death's  shore  in  discontent ! 

No  farewell  you  made,  nor  said 
Aught  in  leaving  us,  but  bright, 

Careless,  and  disdainful,  fled 
Back  into  the  lonely  night. 

Like  a  flash  of  lightning  fleet, 

Blinding  the  soft  sky  of  Spring, 

Was  your  beauty — O  so  sweet, 
And  so  swiftly  vanishing ! 


75 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXIII 

PHE  thought  of  you  is  woven  through  the  Springtime 
A     Like  a  sad  minor  in  the  paean  of  Joy; 
I  cannot  see  the  Spring  and  quite  forget, 
Nor  is  the  Springtime  anymore  the  same. 

You  were  the  tenderness  of  her  wide  hills, 
The  patient  longing  and  the  wistfulness 
Of  all  her  tremulous  blossoms  on  the  air 
Gently  unfolded  for  the  first,  sweet  time, 
— Her  trustful  loveliness  in  mute  appeal. 

Each  year  repeats  my  sorrow  but  anew: 
When  autumn  darkens  o'er  the  solemn  lands, 
To  me  it  is  as  if  again  I  see 
Upon  the  face  the  most  beloved  on  earth, 
The  rapture  and  Springtime  once  of  all  my  life, 
The  first,  sad  lines  of  shame  and  sorrow  there, 
Stealing  its  whole  brave  loveliness  away. 


76 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXIV 

SUCH  flowers  as  I  brought  to  you  in  life 
I  bring  you  now  to  lay  upon  your  grave, 
Now  all  your  dear  defiances  are  dust, 

And  all  your  beauty  broken,  like  a  spent  wave. 

O  swift  and  sweet  and  most  untameable, 

What  pity  should  I  bring  you  now  to  grieve  you ! 

Ah,  though  from  love  you  hid  away  your  face 

Deep  in  the  dark,  yet  love  will  never  leave  you. 

Now  is  all  memory  of  you  wiped  away 
Out  of  all  men  forevermore,  and  yet, 

O  foolish  heart  and  most  adorable, 

Though  none  remember,  I  will  not  forget! 


77 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXV 

NOT  your  heart's  kingdom  did  I  abdicate 
Where  royally  in  splendor  I  had  reigned, 
Nor  base  admittance,  nor  consignment  deigned 
When  the  usurper  hammered  at  the  gate; 
But  heavily  and  to  the  hand  of  Fate 

Love  bowed  his  head,  to  this  extreme  constrained — 
While  deeplier  his  dying  life-blood  stained 
The  regal  purple  of  the  robes  of  state. 

Then  through  the  outer  court  there  ran  a  word, 
And  from  the  throng  a  mighty  murmuring 

Broke  on  his  soul,  in  pangs  of  death  deferred 
And  anguish  of  supremest  suffering, 

And  far  away  a  fading  voice  he  heard, 

Crying  "The  King  is  dead.     Long  live  the  King!" 


78 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXVI 

IN  dreams  you  come  to  mock  me,  in  deep  night, 
When  dark  is  all  the  earth  and  slumber-still, 
Save  for  the  streaming  of  the  pale  starlight 
And  far-off  wailing  of  the  whip-poor-will. 

Then  through  the  room  that  held  you  once  you  move 
With  the  old  carelessness  and  dear  disdain, 

And  lift  your  hands  up  in  the  way  I  love — 
And  the  old  ritual  we  repeat  again. 

Still  from  your  lips  that  secret  I  entreat — 
The  riddle  still  unanswered  evermore — 

And  to  your  lips  your  finger-tip  in  sweet 
Command  you  lift  and  silence,  as  before; 

And  in  the  pallor  of  the  waning  night, 
Laughing,  but  silently,  you  fade  away: 

And  morning  glimmers,  and  the  feeble  light 
Widens  into  the  common  blaze  of  day. 


79 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXVII 

STELLA  we  called  you,  you  whose  young  joy  shed 
Light,  starry  bright,  on  these  dark  ways  below; 
Now  that  her  fire  lies  quenched  among  the  dead, 
"Stella,"  we  think,  "bright  star  set  long  ago." 


80 


APRIL    LIGHTNING 


XXXVIII 

\/OUR  loveliness  was  like  a  wave, 

The  sudden  stroke  of  her  delight 

Flooded  my  heart's  adoring  cave: 
The  shock  of  the  beloved  might 
Startled  the  gloom  to  starry  light, 

That  gave  it  back,  and  drank,  and  gave. 

But  broken,  broken  is  her  strength, 

That  vehement  glory  loved  before, 
The  sweet  rage  of  her  radiant  length 
Shattered  and  shed  forevermore: 

The  adorable  ardor,  the  dear  might, 
Hurled  itself  deathward  with  delight,- 
And  sank  upon  the  sounding  shore. 


81 


Ill 

THE    AWAKENING    DUST 


God  is  all  things  everywhere, 

In  Mind  He  wakes  from  slumber  deep — 
Han  is  His  eternal  prayer, 

And  the  dust  is  God  asleep. 


THY    KINGDOM    COME! 

NOW  in  the  east  the  morning  dies, 
The  full  light  of  the  splendid  sun 
Strikes  downward  on  our  lifted  eyes 
And  the  long  journey  is  begun: 
Across  the  shattered  walls 
A  voice  prophetic  calls, 
With  tumult  and  with  laughter 
We  rise  and  follow  after. 

The  modern  world,  immense  and  wide, 

Awaits  us,  huger  than  before, 
With  new  stars  swimming  in  the  Void, 
And  Science  broadening  evermore 
The  sweep  of  the  limitless  Vast, 
The  Past  is  dead  and  past; 
Yet  through  it  all  forever 
One  voice  is  silent  never. 

'Mid  iron  wheels  and  planets  whirled, 
The  clanging  city,  in  the  street, 

— The  machinery  of  the  modern  world — 
His  lips  cry  loudly  and  entreat, 
85 


THY    KINGDOM    COME! 

Like  one  that  lifts  his  head 
For  a  second  time  from  the  dead, 
— Out  of  the  Ages'  prison 
The  new  Christ  re-arisen ! 

O  holy  spirit — O  heart  of  man ! 

Will  you  not  listen,  turn,  and  bow 
To  that  clear  voice,  since  time  began 
Loud  in  your  ears,  and  louder  now ! 
Mankind,  the  Christ,  retried — 
Recrowned,  recrucified; 
No  god  for  a  gift  God  gave  us, 
Mankind  alone  must  save  us. 

Will  you  not  hear  him — reach  your  hand  !- 

From  factory,  tenement  and  slum 
His  voice  pleads  vainly  in  the  land, 

Ah,  heart  of  man,  the  time  has  come ! 
The  voice  of  Cain  that  wailed 
Grew  sorrowful  and  failed, 
But  a  new  voice  rings  deeper, 
"You  are  your  brother's  keeper." 

O  world,  grown  pitiless  and  grim ! 

0  world  of  men,  had  you  but  known 
86 


THY    KINGDOM    COME! 

Your  brother  is  your  Christ,  through  him 
You  must  be  saved  and  him  alone ! 
Love  for  his  sorrows — love 
Alone  can  lift  you  above 
The  pain  of  your  misgiving, 
The  doom  and  the  horror  of  living. 

Within  ourselves  we  must  find  the  light 

And  in  ourselves  our  gods  to-be, 
Not  throned  beyond  the  stars  of  night; 
Here,  in  America,  we  must  see 
The  love  of  man  for  man, 
The  new  world  republican, — 
A  heaven,  not  superhuman, 
Reborn  in  man  and  woman. 


Forward — !     Truth  glorifies,  not  kills 

The  ancient  marvel  of  the  soul, 
Each  new  progression  but  fulfills 

That  wonder, — the  wheels  of  the  world  that  roll 
Thundering,  but  proclaim 
God  with  a  louder  name; 
Science,  revealing,  rehearses 
But  vaster  universes. 
87 


THY    KINGDOM    COME! 

Though  the  dark  veil  of  dusk  and  doom 
You  strip  from  off  the  Soul  of  things, 
Though  with  new  torches  through  the  gloom 
You  hunt  Him  on  untiring  wings, 
And  in  the  starry  space, 
You  shall  not  find  His  face; 
A  voice  comes  following  after 
Out  of  the  dust  with  laughter. 

The  Vision— the  Ideal— the  God- 
Not  anything  ever  may  destroy. 
Then  let  us  follow,  winged  and  shod 

With  love,  with  courage  and  with  joy; 
Herein  alone  is  the  truth, 
The  glory  and  fire  of  youth, 
Herein  all  high  endeavor, 
Forever  and  forever ! 


88 


FROM    A    TRANSPORT 

END  calls  to  land,  and  on  the  huddled  hills 
Of  field  and  city  many  a  sound  is  heard 
Of  horn  and  whistle,  motor  and  gong  afar; 
But  we  must  follow  down  the  trackless  path 
Of  the  unfurrowed  and  abundant  sea, 
Over  the  mute  road  of  unending  waves, — 
The  desert  of  the  Deep,  divine  and  sad, 
Where  between  daylight  and  dim  starlight  blows 
Immensity,  which  is  the  breath  of  God, 
Between  earth's  warring  nations  ringed  around. 


THE    FAR    LAND 

WE  are  sighing  for  you,  far  land — 
We  are  praying  for  you,  far  land, 
All  our  life  long,  working,  waiting,  night  and  day: 
But  as  waves  that  die  to  reach  the  farther  shore 
Break  our  hearts  that  die  to  reach  you  evermore — 
All  our  hearts  are  breaking,  breaking  toward  that  shore, 
O  far  land,  so  near  and  far  away ! 

At  the  lips  of  the  beloved, 

At  the  breast  of  the  beloved, 
Like  waves  that  seek  the  land,  and  sink  forlorn — 

O  to  reach  it  we  have  died,  but  to  that  beach 

Where  the  beloved  is  love  may  not  reach ! 

Our  children's  children  even  shall  not  reach 
The  far  land  where  all  of  us  were  born. 

Through  the  terror  of  the  ages 
We  have  sought  it,  till  the  ages 
Have  stamped  our  lifted  faces  with  our  love: 

But  long  though  we  have  wandered,  where  we  are 
The  far  land  is  not.     O  that  land  is  far ! 

90 


THE    FAR    LAND 

Beyond  the  night,  beyond  the  morning-star 
The  far  land  grows  further  as  we  move. 

In  music  and  in  story, 
In  song  and  sacred  story 

We  yearned  to  it,  in  color  and  in  sound: 
But  swifter  than  the  soul  the  secret  flies, 
The  vision  pales — beyond,  beyond  it  lies, 
Beyond  all  songs,  beyond  all  harmonies, 

The  far  land  that  we  have  never  found. 

In  the  sweat  of  daily  labor, 

In  the  anguish  of  our  labor 
We  strove  to  bind  it  fast  in  steel  and  stone: 

But  lo — the  walls  were  dust,  the  work  was  naught, 

And  O  it  was  not  what  the  heart  had  sought ! 

'Twas  something  dearer  that  our  blood  had  bought — 
The  far  land  that  we  have  never  known. 

Beyond  long  sea-horizons, 
Beyond  sad  sea-horizons 

Our  furrowing  keels  have  wandered  in  that  quest; 
Beyond  the  sunset,  tremulous  and  dear, 
Glimmered  that  land,  but  as  our  prows  drew  near 
91 


THE    FAR    LAND 

Faded  the  dream,  the  far  land  is  not  here, 
The  far  land,  the  home-land  of  the  breast. 

So  we  built  ourselves  a  heaven, 

Our  God  we  set  in  heaven, 
With  prayer  and  praise  we  wrought  them  to  our  will : 

But  they  could  not  fill  the  measure  of  our  love 

For  the  far  land — O  they  were  not  great  enough ! 

There  is  nothing,  there  is  nothing  great  enough ! 
The  far  land  is  something  greater  still. 

We  are  sighing  for  you,  far  land — 
We  are  dying  for  you,  far  land, 

In  the  trenches,  in  the  bloody  ruck  and  blind. 
We  are  coming,  we  are  coming,  every  breath 
Is  a  wave  that  bears  us  nearer  to  you,  death 
Seals  our  cry.     O  might  our  children  find  ere  death 

The  far  land  that  we  have  died  to  find ! 


LITANY 

as  the  murmuring  of  a  widowed  crone 
A      That  mourns  one  memory  forevermore, 
(Now  that  she  sees  it  all — O  now  at  last !) 
Hark — in  the  church  the  thin  voice  of  the  World, 
Repeating  sad,  repentant  words,  and  slow, 
For  the  old  murder  of  her  patient  Christ. 
O  now  she  sorrows  for  Him — hark — how  soft  .  .  . 
Who  loved  her  in  her  youth,  when  all  her  breast 
Was  strong  and  cruel  as  a  laughing  girl's. 


93 


EAGLES    OF    DEMOCRACY 


gone,  and  Lufbery  flown  his  last  brave  flight 
to  the  farthest  place  !  — 
Bow  your  head  for  the  dauntless  dead  —  in  grief  and  glory 

lift  up  your  face  — 

Raise  a  shout  to  the  winds  about,  to  voice  the  triumph  of 
all  the  Race  ! 

Yes,  for  still  what  the  human  will  may  dare  to  dream  of 

the  strange  and  new, 
Still  we  find  the  hand  and  the  mind  to  dare  the  devil,  and 

see  it  through  — 
The  hand  and  the  brain  to  dare  the  pain,  till  doubt  be  slain 

and  the  dream  come  true. 

Caesar's  pride  may  debar  and  divide  men's  hearts  from  men 

with  the  spears  of  war, 
These  are  brothers  that  make  all  others  brothers  and  lovers 

from  shore  to  shore  — 
Man,  not  men,  one  spirit  again  in  the  struggle  Godward 

forevermore. 

94 


EAGLES    OF    DEMOCRACY 

Each  in  the  Race,  not  each  in  his  place,  the  king  and  the 

beggar,  the  sage  and  the  clod, 
Lives  or  dies,  must  sink  or  rise;  on  the  road  of  the  ages  that 

Man  has  trod 
All  together  we  brave  the  weather — the  upward  march  of 

the  soul  toward  God. 

Though  to  the  earth,  whence  we  all  have  birth,  their  bodies 

sank  when  the  worst  was  done, 
Not  with  these  down  the  baffled  breeze  their  souls  sank, 

soaring  beyond  and  on, 
Upward  ever,  and  on  forever,  till  all  the  glory  of  all  be  won. 

Hail,  all  hail,  in  the  beating  gale  still  battling  onward  against 

the  blast ! 
The  motors  hum  and  the  stars  cry  "Come — ."    Hail!    All 

hail !     And  farewell  at  last — 
Song  would  follow,  but  sinks  back  hollow  and  worn  with 

winging  the  windy  Vast. 


95 


THE    WORLD-SORROW 

IN  dreams  I  found  Her,  by  the  crimson  tide 
Of  the  world's  tumult  throned, — awful  and  still; 
Her  sloping  breast  was  like  a  slumbrous  hill, 
Or  mighty  forest  where  all  winds  have  died. 
There  was  no  pity  in  Her  face,  nor  pride, 
But  flawless  grief,  and  the  unflinching  will 
Of  sorrow,  voiceless  and  supreme,  did  thrill 
My  reckless  heart  to  reverence  long  denied. 

And  to  that  dreadful  and  oblivious  breast 

My  songless  lips  and  dreamless  heart  I  pressed, 

And  felt,  in  the  large  calm  of  Her  embrace, 
The  perfect  and  inexorable  Truth 
Humble  with  hallowing  hands  my  grieving  youth 

Into  the  shoreless  grief  of  all  the  race. 


96 


HYMN    OF    MAN,    1917 

ONOW  to  Thee,  who  art  our  God, 
We  lift  our  voices  crying, 
"For  the  long  path  that  must  be  trod 
Give  us  a  faith  undying  ! " 
The  years  and  ages  roll, 
Still  steadfast  stands  the  soul: 
Strong  love  and  flawless  faith, 
Triumphant  over  death, 

Not  anything  shall  conquer. 

Give  us  the  victory,  O  Lord, 

Not  beggarlike  we  cower — 
Man's  will  is  his  own  holy  sword, 
Within  us  is  the  power. 

The  sad  and  sacred  doom 
That  bears  us  to  the  tomb 
Makes  humble  not  our  lives, 
More  undefeated  strives 

The  God  within  us  Godward. 

No  less  than  what  we  will,  we  can — 
The  ages  shall  fulfill  it— 
97 


HYMN    OF    MAN,     1917 

Man  is  the  highest  hope  of  Man, 
If  he  but  only  will  it: 

Though  prophecy  be  dumb, 
Yet  shall  Thy  kingdom  come 
And  not  in  heaven  above, — 
On  earth  the  reign  of  love 

'Twixt  man  and  man  shall  bring  it. 

The  centuries  and  the  cycles  groan 

Before  Thy  vast  desire, 
And  all  the  starry  heavens  sown 
With  everlasting  fire; 

Lo — Thou  art  everywhere, 
In  earth  and  sea  and  air, 
The  spirit  and  the  clod — 
In  Man,  too,  dwells  the  God, 

And  who  shall  crush,  or  kill  it ! 


98 


IV 

THE    SOURCE 


Bewildered — rapturous — faint — 
Aghast,  Life  leans  upon  the  breast  of  Love, 
At  the  most  holy  and  triumphant  bosom, 
In  the  revealing  moment.     With  what  pain, 
With  what  deep  longing  on  the  magnificent  Breast, 
Beneficent,  and  eternal,  and  supreme, 
She  leans  her  temporal  beauty's  sad,  sweet  weight! 
Ah,  with  what  starriest  longing  all  in  vain 
Lies  fugitive  beauty  against  immortal  Beauty — 
The  life  that  dies  at  the  breast  of  the  Life  eternal! 


OASIS 

VAINLY  for  what  I  longed  for 
I  searched  from  east  to  west, 
But  ere  my  lips  had  spoken 

The  beloved  heart  had  guessed. 

Under  the  tree  of  Life 

She  lured  my  heart  aside, — 
Ere  my  lips  had  spoken 

Silently  she  replied. 

I  leaned  to  her  body's  beauty, 
The  radiant  loveliness — , 

Ere  my  lips  had  spoken 

Her  beauty  whispered  yes. 

With  graciousness  of  pity 

Abundantly  she  shared 
The  bounty  of  her  being, 

Her  loveliness  unbared, — 
101 


OASIS 

The  never-failing  arms 

And  the  sacrificial  breast, 

For  a  refuge  in  the  desert 
Of  death  from  east  to  west, 


102 


REVELATION 

FROM  the  bright  form  now  glides  the  veil, 
Leaving  your  slender  beauty  bare — 
Your  loveliness,  extreme  and  frail, 
Unfolds  before  me  like  a  prayer 
In  tender  silence,  the  supreme 
Message  of  life,  the  wistful  dream. 

The  source  whither  all  being  yearns 

Glimmers  revealed;  the  sacred  source, 
Toward  which  all  life  forever  turns, 
With  secret  and  with  subtle  force 

Lures  me  and  draws  me,  sounds  her  clear 
Challenge  and  invitation  dear. 

All  for  which  love  so  blindly  longs 

Speaks  in  this  presence;  here  is  heard 
The  hymn  of  hymns,  the  song  of  songs, 
Beauty's  unutterable  word 

Beseeching  the  proud  heart  of  Pain, 
"Be  born  again,  be  born  again!" 
103 


REVELATION 

All  joy,  all  wonder,  all  delight 

Of  beauty  in  herself,  is  bared 
Here  at  this  breast,  with  exquisite 

Cunning  for  love's  delight  prepared, 
To  weary  life's  rebellious  cry 
The  sovereign  and  serene  reply — 

Deftly  with  darling  prescience  wrought 

To  pleasure  the  beloved  one, 
A  spur  upon  the  tired  thought 
Of  life  seeking  oblivion, 

For  the  old  hope's  sake  ceaselessly 
Compelling  him  again  to  be. 

And  I,  that  foolishly  to  Death 

So  lately  prayed  that  he  might  come, 
The  sweet  and  the  persuasive  breath 
Of  very  Life,  calling  me  home, 

Through  all  my  recreant  pulses  feel- 
The  fragile  splendor's  mute  appeal. 

Ancient,  inexorable,  and  wise, 

Through  countless  ages  still  the  same, 
To  me  the  Eternal  Kindness  cries 

Out  of  this  form,  and  puts  to  shame 
104 


REVELATION 

My  traitorous  heart:  all  unexpressed 
Passion  sinks  awed  within  the  breast. 

And  can  it  be,  this  flawless  flower, 

This  frame  of  all  dear  bounties  must 
With  every  breath,  with  every  hour 

Press  toward  the  darkness  ?     Shall  the  dust 
Such  awful  tribute  ask?     Ah,  no — 
Eternal  Pity,  say  not  so. 

Yet  so  it  is.     Then  am  I  proud 

That  I  the  fate  of  all  things  fair 
And  brave,  that  in  the  dust  have  bowed 
Their  darling  heads  in  death,  may  share; 
For  the  first  time  since  I  drew  breath 
I  know  the  holy  pride  of  death. 

O  Life,  so  insatiable,  so  dear — 

Sorrow  resistless — for  your  sake 
At  the  bright  breast  of  being  here 
Again  I  bow,  again  I  take 

With  solemn  tears  the  lips  of  pain, 
Here  die  to  be  reborn  again ! 


105 


CHALLENGE 

NEVER  the  woman's  heart  was  all  subdued, 
Nor  the  last  secret  of  it  quite  possessed; 
Lovely  and  tireless,  and  a  challenge  still, 
Laughingly,  out  of  the  weary  arms  of  love 
Virgin  it  rearises  ever  again — 
Wayward,  elusive,  inviolable  and  fleet, 
A  tantalus  and  a  fierce  loveliness  beyond. 


106 


REVERENCE 

WHERE  thy  bosom  draws  profound 
The  deep  mystery  of  breath 
The  dark  churchyard  all  around 

Slumbers  in  the  dream  of  death. 

In  the  heavings  of  thy  breast, 
With  resistless  ebb  and  flow 

Lifting,  lapsing,  without  rest 

The  sweet  wave  comes  to  and  fro. 

Where  the  inmost  Awe  sustains 
The  dear  being  that  thou  art, 

Where  the  sovereign  Rhythm  reigns 
In  the  palace  of  thy  heart, 

There  I  hear  forevermore — 

Holy,  tragic,  and  alone — 
How  life's  sea  with  sullen  roar 

Ebbs  in  awe  to  the  Unknown. 
107 


REVERENCE 

And  I  bow  to  thee,  supreme 

Sumptuous  splendor,  flame  that  flies; 
I  adore  thee,  fragile  dream — 

The  deep  tears  are  in  my  eyes. 


108 


WOMAN:    BIRTH    AND    THE 
RETURN    THROUGH    LOVE 

BEAUTY,  you  are  the  flame  the  breath 
Of  windy  and  unwilling  Death 
Quivers  to  quench,  the  battle-gage 
Flung  in  his  face  with  whom  you  wage 
For  us  the  immemorial  strife 
Of  love,  our  champion  of  Life — 
'Mid  the  dark  terrors  and  profound 
That  girdle  and  enring  us  'round, 
O  Loveliness,  your  flag  unfurled 
Is  Life's  lone  banner  in  the  world ! 

Your  sweetness  the  proud  heart  of  Pain 
Beseeches  to  be  born  again 
With  promise  of  your  loveliness 
That  lures  him  lifeward  still,  to  press 
Forward,  nor  faint,  but  for  your  sake 
The  ancient  yoke  and  burden  take 
Renewed,  the  lonely  and  forlorn 
Adventure;  till,  from  you  reborn, 
Antares-like  touching  the  earth 
109 


WOMAN:     BIRTH    AND 

And  holy  well-head  of  our  birth, 

We,  with  the  child's  heart,  reassume — 

And  lips  of  laughter  through  the  gloom — 

Our  painful  pilgrimage  anew 

Back  to  the  mother-land  of  you. 

Your  pity  falls  like  healing  rain 
On  Life  that  brings  to  you  again, 
Still  urgent  evermore  to  be, 
His  prayer  for  immortality. 
Ah,  well  enough  you  know  the  quest 
That  leads  him  backward  to  your  breast- 
Hearth  of  the  Race,  whereon  the  light 
Of  the  world's  fire  is  kept  bright 
Perpetually !     Sacred  spring, 
From  which  we  all  are  wandering, 
Whither  we  all  return  at  last 
And,  the  long  exile  overpassed, 
From  mother  to  beloved  run 
Love's  orbit,  till  all  love  be  done ! 

Our  varying  and  veering  will 
Deserts  you  and  desires  still — 
We  are  the  wanderers,  you,  the  home 
Toward  which  we  ever  range  and  roam — 
110 


THE  RETURN  THROUGH  LOVE 

All  we  are  wanderers,  roam  and  range 
The  hills  of  chance,  you  know  not  change, 
Keeping  perpetually  pure 
The  dream  whereby  we  all  endure. 
O  sacred  well-head  !     Fountain-sun ! 
O  far  land,  wooed,  yet  never  won, 
And  still  beyond  us !     Steady  light, 
That  leads  us  wandering  in  the  night ! 
Still  we  seek  backward,  still  return — 
The  blind  eyes  brighten — yield  and  yearn 
Our  hungering  hearts — from  alien  shores 
The  lost  wave  of  the  spirit  pours 
Homeward  in  passionate  penitence 
To  the  dear  breast  of  Being,  whence 
Our  children's  children  rearise 
And  seek  you  with,  the  self-same  eyes. 


Ill 


ADORATION 

THOUGH  Death  and  Time  shall  break  you, 
There  is  a  triumph  here 
In  mortal  things  and  human, 
In  tragic  things  and  dear. 

— The  shapely,  stately  splendour 

Of  arms  and  breasts  and  hips, 
And  the  defeated  body, 

And  the  defiant  lips — ! 

The  patience  of  your  passion, 

The  grave  and  the  gracious  doom — , 

Are  holier  than  all  gladness, 
And  lovelier  for  the  tomb. 

O  Beauty,  holy  Beauty, 

On  whom  the  Eternal  wars ! 
My  choral  adorations 

Shall  echo  to  the  stars. 


112 


ALL    THE    MORE 

ALAS,  dear  love,  how  humbled  sinks  your  head 
Before  the  beauty  of  the  starry  choir — 
How  suddenly  is  all  your  beauty  fled 

Before  the  morning  and  the  radiant  Fire ! 

Pitiful  are  you,  to  the  dusty  doom 

Condemned,  and  to  the  sorrowful  embrace 

Your  body  hastens  mournfully,  the  tomb 
Shall  swallow  up  the  sadness  of  your  face; 

And  in  the  thought  of  the  seraphic  Wonder 

The  thought  of  you  sinks  tired  wings  and  tame 

The  height  and  depth  of  beauty,  over  and  under, 
Derides  and  puts  your  loveliness  to  shame. 

The  breathless  awe  of  heaven,  the  white  sleep 
Of  star  on  star,  makes  you  ridiculous, 

Our  love  before  the  Love  that  thrills  the  Deep 
Fades,  and  the  fiery  wheels  roll  over  us, 

The  holy,  implacable  wheels  of  all  things  moving 
Mercilessly  forever.     All  the  more, 
113 


ALL    THE    MORE 

Dearly  beloved,  sorrowful  and  loving, 

I  seek  your  bosom,  with  the  world  at  war. 

O  sad  and  mortal !     O  most  dear  Desire, 

Holy  and  human,  with  the  doom  at  strife  ! 

Beneath  the  beauty  of  the  starry  choir 
I  bow  before  you,  at  the  throne  of  Life. 


114 


V 

EARTH  PUTS  FORTH  HER  DREAM 


Behold  the  tormented  and  the  fallen  angel. 
Wandering  disconsolate  the  world  along, 

That  seeks  to  atone  with  inconsolable  anguish 

For  some  old  grievance,  some  remembered  wrong,- 

To  storm  heaven's  iron  gates  with  angry  longing, 
And  beat  back  homeward  in  a  shower  of  Song! 


THE    OPENING    BARS    OF 
WAGNER'S    "RING" 

OTEADILY  Love  begins  to  breathe  and  blow 
W       Into  mute  law  sonorous  life  and  strong; 
The  first  breath  of  the  giant  labours  slow 
To  lift  on  his  broad  bosom  all  that  song. 


117 


ERNEST    DOWSON 

BROTHER,  what  is  there  to  say  to  you, 
Now  that  your  feet  have  passed  beyond  the  sun ! 
Now  is  the  twilight  waned,  the  dark  begun, 
And  the  consoling  memories  fall  like  dew. 
Alas,  what  has  your  dreaming  brought  you  to ! 
O  brother — what  is  this  that  you  have  done ! 
But  peace,  these  are  no  things  to  think  upon, — 
And  evening  brings  the  immortal  stars  to  view. 

As  one  might  lay  his  palm  upon  your  breast 

And  feel  the  pleading  of  your  heart's  demand, 

While  yet  it  throbbed  for  life,  though  fain  to  weep; 
Now,  when  the  stars  have  gathered  you  to  rest, 
O  inconsolable  friend,  I  lay  my  hand 

Upon  this  page,  and  hear  it,  though  you  sleep. 


118 


SWINBURNE 

NOT  in  some  twilit  temple  of  lights  dying 
And  meditative  thought,  in  no  far  place 
Was  he  sequestered,  whose  exultant  face 
Was  lifted  in  the  broad  daylight,  defying, 
Like  his  own  ocean's  thunder-throated  crying, 
The  lost,  gone  stars  in  the  sun-circled  space: 
A  spirit  girded  up  for  a  swift  race, 
And  sent  upon  his  purpose  with  no  sighing. 

Not  throned  amid  the  silence  of  some  star 
Deep  in  the  lonely  coldness  of  the  night, 

But  woven  through  the  meadows  near  and  far — 
A  spirit  laughing  at  his  own  delight, 
That  veils  his  splendors  in  the  sunset's  light, 

And  moves  like  music  through  all  things  that  are! 


119 


SHAKESPEARE'S  JULIET  :  IN  THE 
VAULT  OF  THE  CAPULETS 

ALAS,  what  is  this  maiden-flower,  full-blown, 
And  wasted  on  the  mournful  marge  of  death — 
This  Beauty,  white  with  sleep,  and  out  of  breath, 
That  hurries  toward  the  destiny  unknown ! 
In  the  hushed  tomb  Love  makes  no  humble  moan, 
Triumphant  over  the  silent  face  beneath 
Leaning,  with  tremulous  lips  and  soul  that  saith 
Forever,  gloriously,  one  word  alone. 

O  Juliet,  your  sorrow  makes  me  glad, 
Seeing  how  Love  and  clamorous  desire 

Through  their  own  doom  show  grave  and  holiest, — 
And  Youth,  unconquerable  and  never  sad, 
Although  it  sink  beneath  the  starry  choir 
Silent,  with  all  the  music  in  its  breast ! 


120 


THE    SEVENTH    SYMPHONY 

WHEN  on  the  mind's  wide-echoed  wildernesses 
High  music  fades,  and  ever  fainter  roll, 
Down  endless  sweeps  and  distant,  dim  abysses 

Receding,  the  storm-voices  of  the  soul, 

The  spirit  swoons  out  of  the  longing  face. 
0  hungering  face  turned  on  an  empty  goal, 

The  vision  is  but  vanished  for  a  space, 

We  are  but  banished  for  a  little  hour, 
And  set  within  this  wild,  unwilling  place 

By  God,  inexplicable,  and  God's  power ! 

But  the  vague  voices  grow  more  full  and  vast, 
— The  voice  once  dimly  heard  in  field  and  bower; 

Encompassing  the  long-lost  arms  at  last, 
The  old  world-agonies  fade  down  the  Past. 


121 


LILITH 

SHE  loiters  in  low  vallies  lily-grown 
That  open  toward  the  ocean,  and  the  tree, 
Wind-blown,  whereon  she  leans  in  reverie, 
Trembles  to  feel  soft  arms  twined  with  its  own. 
Her  smile  is  like  a  sigh — ah,  were  it  known 

What  stirred  that  smile  so  deep,  so  passionately, 
Dead  sunsets,  or  the  everlasting  sea, 
Or  pale  wistaria  on  the  breezes  blown ! 

And  still  she  dreams,  and  still  her  pallid  feet 
Crush  the  white  lilies  to  the  tender  sod — 
And  still  her  heart  with  wild,  attentive  beat 

Throbs  back  the  pleading  passion  of  the  sea, 
Regardless  how  along  heaven's  boundary 
Flashes  the  thunder  of  an  outraged  God. 


122 


ROSSETTI 

OMASTERLIEST  sweet  Heart,  whose  tight-tuned  lyre 
Snaps  at  the  one  word,  love, — and  all  along 
The  vibrant  chords  a  myriad  memories  throng, 
Sudden  with  long-felt  want  and  dumb  desire ! 
Even  to  the  utmost  straining  of  each  wire 

The  numerous  notes  sound  solemnly  and  strong; 
Deeper  than  this  no  modulate  tones  belong, 
And  than  this  note  no  notes  reverberate  higher. 

Lay  your  hand  on  its  pause,  and  let  it  pass — 

One  thing  too  mastering  for  its  heaviest  strings 
And  holiest.     Deeper  in  the  deep  heart  sings, 

Tremulous  as  a  weak  wind  on  bowed  grass, 
The  innermost  marvel  of  the  soul  of  things, 

And  for  it  all  no  words — alas — alas ! 


123 


BEETHOVEN 

ENG  ages  ere  the  human  dream  began, 
From  the  dim  dust,  through  flow'ret,  leaf  and  stone, 
With  slow  persistance  and  laborious  groan, 
While  the  evolving  stars  their  cycles  ran, 
Through  monster  and  through  beast  reptilian, 
And  the  dumb  brute  with  inarticulate  moan, 
This  spirit  has  moved  upward  to  its  throne 
For  a  brief  space,  which  was  the  body  of  Man. 

And  dwelling  there,  restless  and  discontent, 
'Prisoned  a  term  in  the  repressive  clod, 

Shed  itself  in  a  shower  of  shining  sound; 
So  Beethoven  the  last  progression  went, 

Unto  that  high  Supreme  from  this  Profound — , 
From  Man,  through  Music,  to  concordant  God. 


124 


TOLSTOI 

TOOK  on  this  face,  and  ponder  on  him  well 
J— '  Who  was  the  first  to  cleave  the  unknown  seas ! — 
Upon  this  brow  broke  the  new  thought  of  the  world 
Whose  waves  we  wander  now  with  furrowing  keel. 


125 


VI 

BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


Who  shall  lay  bare  love's  inmost  meaning,  who 
Reveal  the  sovereign  splendor  on  its  throne, 
Or  utter  forth  in  language  the  unknown! — 

Old  is  all  language,  but  all  love  is  new, 

How  may  I  tell  you  of  this  love  that  to 

Your  bosom  draws  me  from  my  very  own. 
And  wakes  me  to  one  need,  and  one  alone, — 

0  love,  the  need  to  be  reborn  from  you! 

There  is  no  word  whereby  love  may  declare 

His  holy  will ;  but  in  the  breathless  deed 
Of  adoration,  in  the  primal  prayer 

At  the  beloved  breast,  he  tells  his  need 

To  the  one  kind  and  conquering  heart,  and  she 
In  the  great  silence  answers  silently. 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


MY  Love  of  you,  like  an  angel, 
Entered  in  my  door, 
To  make  his  silent  dwelling 
Beside  me  evermore. 

His  eyes  are  deep  and  solemn, 
His  eyes  are  pure  and  grave — 

Sacred  to  reprove, 

And  vigilant  to  save. 

Across  my  singing  of  you 
He  leans  a  golden  head, 

Nightly,  when  I  sleep, 
He  sits  beside  the  bed. 

He  has  your  very  lips, 

Your  forehead  and  your  hair, 
If  I  should  awake, 

Still  I  find  him  there. 


129 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


II 

OLOVE,  now  my  life  to  yours  in  the  moment  of  its 
greatest  need 
Turns  for  the  supreme  compassion,  and  all  my  senses 

pray 
To  your  triumphant  loveliness — O  be  great  indeed 

And  gracious,  as  befits  a  conqueror — turn  not  my  love 
away ! 

But  in  the  holy  midnight  of  your  tresses  hide 

My  hunted  soul  from  the  arrows  of  your  face.     O  let 

me  lie 

Close,  close  at  your  breast,  and  against  the  solemn  pride 
Of  your  victorious  heart  hold  close  this  heart  that  at 
your  own  must  die ! 

It  faints  for  the  land  of  your  far  beauty — O  let  it  break 

On  the  implacable  silence  of  your  bosom  here ! 
Have  pity  on  your  lover — lay  your  arms  about  me  for  dear 

pity's  sake, — 

Yet  have  no  pity,  pain  itself  from  you  is  dear. 

130 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 

Hold  me — O  hold  me  close,  that  in  the  great  moment  I  may 

know 

Your  reassuring  lips  and  breast  that  in  the  divine  pas 
sion  move: 
Be  merciful  as  a  victor  to  the  vanquished  in  the  hour  of  his 

overthrow, 
Merciful  as  death,  and  inexorable  as  love ! 


131 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


Ill 

I  CANNOT  look  on  the  face  I  love,  for  the  many  tears, 
Nor  at  the  heart  I  love  sing  of  the  heart  I  love; 
All  the  songs  I  had  dreamed,  where  are  they  vanished  away  ? 
All  for  the  aching  joy  something  sobs  in  the  throat. 


132 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


IV 

FOR  pity  and  compassion's  sake 
Your  holy  beauty  deigned  to  slake 
My  bitter  need  of  you,  the  pain 
That  cried  to  you,  and  cried  again. 

To  my  prayer  your  loveliness 
Whispered  yes  and  whispered  yes, — 
To  my  need  it  made  reply 
Silently,  silently. 

And  bravely  still  you  lifted  up 
To  my  lips  the  brimming  cup 
Of  your  beauty,  hushed  and  still, 
And  bade  my  longing  have  its  will. 

There  was  pity  in  your  eyes 
At  my  pleasure,  sweet  surprise 
And  friendly  wonder,  when  you  knew 
First  my  utter  love  of  you. 

As  one  that  barely  understands, 
But  pities  much,  I  felt  your  hands 
Clinging,  and  around  me  thrown 
Your  kind  arms,  like  a  mother's  own. 
133 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


SOUL  of  all  souls,  like  waves  in  the  wild  sea 
And  ocean  of  all  being,  toward  the  shore 
And  massive  limits  of  death's  boundary 
Moving  in  trampled  lapse  forevermore — 

Merge  in  my  wrath,  and  let  our  mingled  height, 
One  instant  foaming,  catch  with  kindled  crest 

Life's  glory; — and  with  sullen  wrath  of  might 
Thunder  in  music  on  death's  golden  breast ! 


134 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


VI 


WHAT  is  this  memory,  this  homesickness, 
That  draws  me  to  yourself  resistlessly, 
As  to  some  far  place  where  I  long  to  be — 
This  exile's  hungering  for  loveliness ! 
Here  in  the  night  the  face  that  I  caress 
Lies  like  a  moonlit  land  beyond  the  sea, 
A  kingdom  lost,  toward  which  the  heart  of  me, 
Shipwrecked  and  worn,  beats  backward  in  distress. 

Have  I  been  here  before?    How  long  ago, 
And  on  what  pilgrimage  and  journey  far 
Was  lost  this  land  remembered?     By  what  star 
Did  I  steer  homeward?     Only  this  I  know, 
That  all  my  being  from  my  breast  would  go 
To  the  dear  home  and  heaven  where  you  are. 


135 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


VII 

BEND  over  me,  as  if  all  heaven 
Leaned  down  to  love  me,  let  your  hair 
Fall  'round  me,  while,  like  stars  at  even', 
Your  eyes  shine  in  the  twilight  there — 
For  a  kind  moment's  happy  space 
Crowd  the  whole  world  out  with  your  face. 

Now,  looking  up,  I  see  above  me, 

Through  fluttering  lashes  golden-grave, 
Your  eyes,  that  almost  seem  to  love  me, 
Open  in  that  sweet  way  they  have 

Like  flowers,  your  faint  lips  half-apart 
Make  feverish  music  in  my  heart. 

What  sorrow  can  get  in  between  us 

Here  where  your  tresses  shut  away 
Longing  and  loneliness,  and  screen  us 
From  all  less  beautiful  than  they 
Shut  out,  shut  in  with  you  alone 
Here,  in  this  heaven  all  your  own ! 

Not  the  whole  world  with  all  its  treasure 
Has  anything  to  give  that  is 
136 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


So  dear,  so  darling  beyond  measure, 
So  marvellous  and  strange  as  this, 
When,  bending  over  me,  you  do 
Make  me  forget  all  else  but  you. 

And  now  to  my  blurred  eyes  come  stealing 

Such  happy  tears,  as  to  confess 
Shames  no  man,  from  the  founts  of  feeling 
Confused  by  so  much  loveliness — 
My  blood  trembles — my  spirit  cries 
In  wonder,  and  worships  at  your  eyes! 

'Tis  passed.     A  moment — and  around  me 
Rolls  the  harsh  world  again;  but  love 
With  one  white  memory  has  crowned  me — 
Not  death  itself  can  rob  me  of 

That  moment,  when  I  saw  you  there 
Bend  down  above  me  through  your  hair. 


137 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


VIII 

'""THERE  was  a  time  when  Love  had  built  apart 

An  altar  for  lone  worship  in  your  breast, 
From  the  world's  rage  a  refuge  and  a  rest, 
And  drowned  her  myriad  hearts  out  with  one  heart. 

"Be  not  as  all  the  others "  all  his  cry, — 

With  terror  of  oblivion  stung,  the  soul 
Around  one  loveliest  head  life's  aureole 

Flings,  'mid  the  piteous  hosts  that  hurry  by. 

But  now,  to  that  dear  selfhood  humbler  grown, — 
The  woman's  heart,  so  fugitive,  frail,  and  vain — 
Love  takes  with  tears  the  accustomed  lips  again, 

And  the  world-arms  steal  'round  him  with  your  own. 


138 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


IX 

THE  long,  the  autumn  rain 
Bows  down  across  the  earth, 
The  flowers  die  again 

At  the  breast  that  gave  them  birth. 

They  die  at  the  breast  they  love, 

They  faint  and  fall  away 
At  the  immortal  bosom 

In  the  twilight  of  the  day. 

So  fain  I,  too,  would  die, 

At  the  last  breath  to  feel 
The  arms  I  love  the  most 

Around  my  sorrow  steal. 

O  come  with  silent  feet, 

Come  where  I  lie  at  rest, 
Stoop  to  me  with  your  lips, — 

Cover  me  with  your  breast ! 

And  death  shall  seem  familiar, 
Dear,  with  your  heart  above, — 

So  often  have  I  died  there, 
So  oft,  in  the  hour  of  love. 
139 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


A  PRECIOUS  burden  did  my  bosom  bear, 
And  still  in  desperation  for  the  one, 
That  from  this  breast  of  dark  oblivion 
Might  rescue  it,  I  hunted  e verywhere ; 
With  that  far  lovelier  breast  of  life  to  share 
The  sacred  secret  that  with  me  alone 
Had  perished  in  the  outer  night.     But  none 
Echoed  my  cry,  nor  answered  to  my  prayer. 

Then  through  the  desert  of  this  life  I  came 
To  the  last  loneliest  marge,  and  to  the  sky 

Lifted  my  hands  in  anguish  and  in  shame, 
And  ventured  once  again  the  eternal  cry, 

Calling  on  the  beloved  without  name, 

"Where  art  thou?"    And  a  voice  answered  "It  is  I !" 


140 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


XI 

STORM  and  black  night  without— but  in  this  place, 
This  little  lamplit  room,  what  peace  I  found, 
Dear,  where  the  quiet  kingdom  of  your  face 
Reigns  'mid  the  lonely  terrors  ringed  around! 


141 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


XII 

SWEET,  so  insistent,  so  inexorably 
You  cleave  and  cling  to  me 
Here  in  this  long  caress — 

Humbling  my  wayward  self  to  your  wild  loveliness; 
Little  you  guess, 
O  dumb,  insatiable  eagerness, 
Little  you  understand 
All  that  you  ask  for,  all  that  you  demand 
Of  this  worn  heart  that  dies 

Here  at  your  own !     Sweet  life  that  craves  and  sighs, 
Thirsty  beauty  and  blind — 
O  loveliness,  so  tender  and  so  kind, 
Compassionate  lips  and  dear, 
Can  it  be  you,  can  it  be  you  that  here, 
Ceaselessly  clamoring, 

Demand  of  love  this  most  extravagant  thing 
In  dread  abandonment ! 
Will  you  not  be  content — 
Would  you  have  all,  all, 
Body  and  heart  and  spirit  for  your  thrall 
Inextricably  one — ? 

142 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 

Nay,  is  it  not  enough  that  I  am  none 
But  yours,  yours  through  and  through 
Even  to  the  inmost  thought 
And  throne  of  all  my  being,  is  it  not 
Enough  that  I  am  yours,  must  I  be  you  ? 

Then,  Heart,  to  be  possessed 

Recklessly  hasten!    At  that  lovelier  breast 

Give  up, — give  over! — Take 

The  death  of  selfhood,  and  for  beauty's  sake 

The  immortal  venture  make ! 

Heart,  let  us  dare. 

See — is  it  not  sweet,  is  it  not  fair 

And  worthy  of  your  pain? 

Heart — die  again — 

Die  now,  and  for  one  shuddering  moment  live 

In  the  dear  being,  be 

You  herself  utterly — 

So  from  this  breast  you  shall  be  born  again — : 

Heart — give,  give! 


143 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XIII 

TISTEN,  dear  love,  now  in  this  solemn  light 
J— '      The  Eternal  Silence  speaks.    What  tremulous, 
Sweet,  radiant  word  troubles  the  moonlit  night — 
What  is  it  God  is  trying  to  say  to  us  ? 


144 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


XIV 

SO  royally  you  dealt  with  me,  so  great 
Your  queenly  ways  of  love  were !     When  with  me 
You  shared  your  being's  bounty,  recklessly 
I  felt  your  life,  triumphant  and  elate, 
Beat  at  my  own  that  stormed  the  outer  gate; 
When  all  my  love  prayed  to  you  brokenly, 
With  what  inexorable  ecstasy 
Lift  to  my  lips  the  cup  compassionate ! 

But  when  deep  sleep  had  summoned  you,  and  when 
I  felt  the  life  that  late  such  largess  dealt, 

Deep  in  your  breast  at  battle,  play  its  part 
In  the  lone  fight  with  stealthy  death,  ah,  then 
Dazed  at  your  side  all  night  I  kneeled,  and  felt 
The  tragic  beating  of  one  human  heart. 


145 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XV 

REATLY,  undalmtedly,  you  did  endure 

With  brave  abandon  and  supreme  consent 
To  render  up,  in  the  accomplishment 
Of  life,  your  holy  body  and  being  pure: 
Great  in  surrender,  in  your  giving  sure 
And  weariless,  still  with  magnificent 
Ardor  of  love,  when  love's  desire  was  spent, 
Laughed  in  your  eyes  the  everlasting  lure. 

And  all  that  loveliness,  the  loud  world's  pride, 
Mine  in  that  moment,  and  how  dear  I  know ! 

Yet  dearer  was  an  hour,  when  at  my  side 

You  clung  with  eyes  all  blinded,  and  cheeks  of  snow, 

And  beauty  broken, — and  quivering  lips  that  cried 
Against  my  lips  their  piteous  human  woe. 


146 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XVI 

THE  shoreless  and  the  starless  sea  of  night 
With  solemn  tide  of  radiant  moonlight  flows, 
And  gently  through  the  window-lattice  throws 
Upon  your  bosom  chequered  shade  and  light: 
Like  a  cathedral,  bathed  in  gloom  and  bright 

With  sumptuous  splendor,  now  your  body  shows — 
In  the  stern  marble  of  serene  repose, 
Where  reigned  the  sovereign  and  supreme  delight. 

Hushed  is  your  bosom's  choir,  and  deep  rest 
Broods  on  the  altar,  empty  is  the  throne 

And  silent  is  the  answer  in  your  breast 
That  but  so  lately  echoed  to  my  own — 

Where  are  you  fled  from  me,  on  what  far  quest 
In  bright  disdain,  leaving  me  here  alone? 


147 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XVII 

MUCH  had  we  learned  of  love,  both  you  and  I, 
His  large  exuberance  and  great-hearted  days, 
Passionate  grief  and  exquisite  delays, 
Kinship  and  mirth  beneath  the  open  sky, — 
A  refuge  from  the  ancient  mystery, 

Love  that  atones  for  death  in  many  ways — 
The  love  that  to  the  most  beloved  prays — 
Which  is  the  prayer  for  immortality. 

Yet  was  the  deepest  secret  still  concealed, 

(Tenderly  the  great  Being  uttereth 
His  truths  most  awful)  till,  with  eyelids  sealed 

In  rapture's  dread  extreme,  and  breathless  breath, 
Your  countenance  was  known;  and  dawn  revealed 

The  face  of  love  which  is  the  face  of  death. 


148 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


XVIII 

THE  large  days  of  the  everlasting  earth 
Draw  to  sublime  conclusion;  in  the  mood 
Of  ancient  autumn,  awful  and  subdued, 
She  waits  the  death  that  is  the  door  to  birth — 
With  bounty  bowed  against  the  days  of  dearth, 
Holy  and  steadfast — but  drear  leaves  are  strewed 
Over  the  tomb  between  her  breasts,  and  rude 
Wail  the  huge  winds  that  mock  at  April's  mirth. 

Lay  your  frail  arms  about  my  weariness. 

Bare  me  that  pale  and  patient  breast  again. 
Gather  me  to  you  in  one  deep  caress ! 

For  all  my  heart  is  breaking,  and  the  pain 
Of  life  is  on  me,  and  the  loneliness, — 

And  death  is  dark,  and  love  itself  is  vain. 


149 


BE    BORN    AGAIN  ! 


XIX 

MOONLIGHT  is  memory;  now  the  sun 
His  radiant  race  in  heaven  has  run, 
Backward  he  sheds  from  far  away 
The  light  of  our  lost  yesterday. 

On  the  pillow  where  your  head 
Lay  dreaming,  on  the  empty  bed 
Falls  the  moonlight,  on  the  walls 
The  lonely  light  of  memory  falls. 

Where  it  rested  your  pale  hair 
Has  left  its  print  in  moonlight,  where 
Your  perfect  loveliness  did  press 
Lingers  a  vanished  loveliness. 

Gaunt  in  the  moonlight  the  road  lies 
That  took  you  from  my  longing  eyes, 
And  one  wide  window,  drenched  with  light, 
Stares  out  into  the  marble  night.  .  .  . 


150 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XX 

ACROSS  the  west  the  star  of  evening  glides, 
Toward  her,  from  the  under  skies  that  are, 
A  sister  light  moves  upward  in  her  car, 
With  the  slow  pace  of  beauty  that  abides. 
The  face  of  heaven  is  breathless  like  a  bride's, 
But  in  the  solemn  vacancies  afar 
Light  answers  light,  star  toward  beloved  star 
In  sleepless  love  through  the  void  heaven  rides. 

So  I  to  You  across  the  world  of  things, 
'Mid  shining  orbs  and  vapours  uncreate, 

Through   the   wide   waste   with   changeless   motion 

climb ; 
So  I  to  You  across  the  Deep  that  rings, 

'Mid  glittering  wheels  and  the  fixed  stars  of  Fate, 
Answer  forever  across  the  womb  of  Time. 


151 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XXI 

OYOU,  to  whom  across  the  universe 
I  move  along  the  orbits  of  my  Song, 
Listen  to  me,  and  rise  above  the  throng 
Of  dissonant  dischords,  the  primeval  curse ! 
Not  dreams  alone  are  mirrored  in  this  verse, 

But  the  great  truth  that  makes  Creation  strong, 
That  the  heavens  ring  'round  with  like  an  iron  gong, 
And  the  innumerable  stars  rehearse. 

Through  harmony,  which  is  necessity 
Embraced  with  love,  the  very  stars  are  free, 

And  hang  in  heaven  thereby,  a  sacred  sign; 
And  I,  through  you,  shall  be  caught  up  above 
Myself,  and  you,  beyond  yourself,  through  love 

Console  our  passion  to  the  laws  divine. 


152 


BE    BORN    AGAIN! 


XXII 

I  HAVE  seen  a  wondrous  vision — stars  I  have  seen, 
Sunset  and  moonrise — eyes  that  laugh  and  weep — 
Millions  of  faces — and  the  one  face  I  have  seen: 
The  vision  falters,  and  I  sleep. 


153 


VII 

SONG    OF    THE    MOTH 


Night  into  the  universe 

Frees  us  from  the  walls  of  day, 
And  Death,  into  the  starry  All, 

When  ourselves  have  passed  away. 


THE    SELF 

WHO  reigns  within  my  breast,  the  sovereign  lord, 
How  many  a  day  this  body  that  he  wrought 
On  many  a  dusty  road  has  homeward  brought, 
Or  through  the  ringing  surf  that  'round  me  roared — 
Or  through  my  lips  the  prayer  to  Beauty  poured, 
Or  wove  the  intricate,  frail  web  of  thought 
Wherein  the  flying  dream  of  God  is  caught — , 
Or  glowed  against  the  breast  of  the  adored ! 

How  marvellous  and  strange  is  he  that  keeps 
The  righteous  rather  than  the  evil  way, 

And  in  my  sleeping  bosom  never  sleeps, 
But  holds  the  ancient  enemy  at  bay; 

And  comprehends  the  firmament,  and  weeps 
Over  the  fallen  dream  of  yesterday. 


157 


WINE    OF    THE    WORLD 


at  the  lips  of  Life  I  lay 
And  drank  fresh  ardors  all  the  day 
From  the  beloved  eyes  and  dear 
That  glowed  against  me  calm  and  clear. 

And  reckless  still  and  with  unrest 
Closer  the  silent  lips  I  pressed, 
But  the  dark  eyes  no  answer  gave, 
Burning  against  me  deep  and  grave. 

Day  faltered,  night  drew  'round  about, 
The  heart  within  me  was  wearied  out; 
Then  first  beyond  the  dear  head  I  saw 
Shadows  and  swords  of  the  ancient  Awe. 

And  closer  I  clung,  and  closer  drew 
To  drink  and  drain  the  sweet  life  through 
The  lips  beloved,  but  through  my  fears 
Their  taste  was  bitter,  as  with  tears. 
158 


WINE    OF    THE    WORLD 

O  hoiy  draught,  and  eyes  that  weep ! 
Deeper  I  drank,  and  deep,  and  deep: 

The  wine  of  the  world  is  on  my  lips, 
And  they  are  closed  in  sleep. 


159 


ZENITH 

NOW  in  my  breast  the  sole  and  sovereign  Power 
Puts  forth  his  strength,  and  through  a  million  veins 
I  feel  the  tidal  stream  of  life  that  strains 
Toward  the  dark  sea  that  doth  all  streams  devour: 
This  is  the  noontide  of  my  spirit's  hour, 

Through  all  my  frame  the  imperious  rhythm  reigns — 
And  the  one  self,  that  deep  in  me  sustains 
His  being,  stands  fulfilled  in  fullest  flower. 

Now  through  my  brain  the  blood's  rich  purple  roars, 
Washing  her  cells  with  wine  of  song  and  dream, 

And  in  my  breast  the  embattled  Splendor  wars 
On  the  dark  foe,  and  rages  for  extreme 

Wrath  and  delight;  and  all  my  being  pours 

Through  Love  and  Song  toward  the  escape  supreme. 


160 


THE    PRESENCE 

TREMBLING  on  the  utmost  brink 
Of  thy  being,  deep  I  drink: 
Swift  the  opiate  moment  nears. 
I  behold  thee  through  my  tears. 

I  behold  thy  quiet  smile, 
Bending  over  me  the  while. 
The  dear  lips  that  into  mine 
Laugh  for  tenderness  divine. 

Ah,  too  deep,  ah,  fain  to  pause ! 
Shuddering,  my  spirit  draws, 
Shuddering,  I  drink  and  drain 
Deep  of  thee,  bewildering  pain — 

Draught  too  poignant;  in  dismay 
Fiercely  from  my  lips  away 
I  would  press  thee,  dizzy  cup. 
Closer  thou  dost  hold  it  up. 

And  closer  still  and  closer,  dear, 
Nearer  yet,  more  near,  more  near — ; 
161 


THE    PRESENCE 

Till  I  faint  of  thee,  until, 
Full  of  thee,  I  drink  thee  still. 

Laughing  thou  dost  lift  it  up 
To  my  lips,  that  satiate  cup: 
Thou  wouldst  have  me  drink  of  thee 
Deeply,  darkly,  utterly. 


162 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

IN  the  small  bare  room  brimmed  up  with  twilight 
Hours  long  in  silence  I  had  sat 
By  the  bed  on  which  my  youth  lay  dying 
And  the  poet  that  I  once  had  been. 

Many  and  many  a  day  he  had  been  failing, 
And  I  knew  the  end  must  come  at  last — 

The  poor  fellow — I  had  loved  him  dearly, 
It  was  hard  for  me  to  see  him  go. 

He  was  both  my  rapture  and  my  sorrow — 
O  how  Love  unto  its  sorrow  clings ! — 

Many  a  bitter  hour  had  he  brought  me, 
Loneliness,  and  shipwreck  of  the  heart. 

And  I  loved  him.     But  my  mind  was  weary 

Almost  as  the  twilight  of  the  day, 
And  my  soul  was  sullen,  and  a  little 

Tired  of  his  everlasting  talk. 

Still  from  side  to  side  his  eyes  went  roaming, 
As  in  fever  earnestly  he  moaned 
163 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

Old  forgotten  ecstasies  and  splendors, 
Ebbed  from  out  my  heart  forevermore. 

His  poor  fingers  aimlessly  and  awkward 
Fumbled  with  the  covers,  and  a  look 

On  his  features,  fatuous  and  fervent, 
Foolish  seemed  and  laughable  enough. 

Softly  stirred  the  curtains.  From  the  river 
Came  a  sound  of  whistles.  In  the  street 

Flared  the  first  few  lamps.  A  barrel-organ 

Rasped  a  mournful  measure.  Night  was  here. 

"Ah,  the  cities,"  cried  he,  "and  the  faces, 

Like  an  endless  river  rolling  on — 
From  what  unknown  deeps  of  being  risen 

All  those  myriads,  to  what  shadowy  coast 

"Of  huge  doom  in  sullen  grandeur  moving, 
The  vast  waters  of  the  human  soul ! 

Can  you  see  it  still — as  in  an  ocean 
Every  sea-drop  sparkles  of  the  sea, 

"Foams,  and  perishes — ,  so  for  a  moment 
From  each  living  face  the  dauntless,  dear 
164 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

Eyes  of  Life  look  out  at  us  to  greet  us, 
Shine — and  hurry  by  into  the  night  ? 

"Is  it  beautiful,"  he  cried,  "my  brother?" 
With  such  fiery  question  burned  his  glance, 

That  to  quiet  him  in  haste  I  answered, 
"All  that  you  have  said  is  doubtless  so; 

"But,  pray,  calm  yourself,  my  dear,  good  fellow, 

Let  it  be,  and  let  it  go  at  that." 
And  I  drew  the  covers  'round  him  closer, 

Smoothed  his  pillow  for  him.     He  began: 

"Do  you  'mind  that  night  beside  the  beaches 
When  the  whole  world  in  one  brimming  cup, 

Earth  and  sky,  the  sea,  clouds,  dews,  and  starlight, 
To  our  lips  was  lifted,  and  we  drank, 

"Dizzy  with  dread  joy  and  sacrificial 
Rapture  of  self-loss  and  sorrow  dear, 

Deep  of  Beauty's  draught,  divine  nirvana, 
The  bewildering  wine  of  all  the  world  ? " 

"I  remember  certain  lonely  beaches," 
Wearily  I  answered,  "nothing  more. 
165 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

Starlight  is  a  usual  occurrence 

Any  pleasant  night  beside  the  sea." 

For  my  heart  was  sick  and  sore  within  me, — 
The  poor  fellow,  every  word  he  spoke 

Shamed  me,  there  was  something  in  his  gesture 
Almost  comic  that  I  could  not  bear. 

Yet  I  feared  this  time  that  I  had  hurt  him 
Such  offended  silence  long  he  kept: 

On  his  hand  I  laid  my  hand  in  pity, 
Penitent, — and  softly  he  began, 

"Ah,  that  night  in  May,  do  you  remember? 
Nightingales  are  singing  from  the  wood — 

And  the  moonlight  through  the  lattice  streaming- 
Silence — and  deep  midnight — and  one  face, 

"Like  a  moonlit  land,  desire's  kingdom, 

Luring  from  the  breast  the  homesick  self ! 

Can  you  see  it  still"  he  cried,  "my  brother?" 
Then  in  anger  broke  my  wounded  heart. 

"Streets  I  see"  I  said,  "and  squalid  alleys 
Where  one  lamp  flares  foully  in  the  night, 
166 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

Darkened  windows  full  of  empty  faces — 
The  sad  jest  and  tragedy  of  Man ! " 

"This,"  he  cried  aloud,  "this,  too,  is  holy — 
O  dear  Beauty,  in  what  beggar's  guise 

You  may  hide  your  splendor,  yet  I  know  you; 
Though  the  ears  be  deaf,  the  eyes  be  blind, 

"Glorious  are  all  things,  and  forever 
Beautiful  and  holy  is  the  Real ! " 

Now  I  could  not  answer  him,  most  strangely 
Touched  me  those  old  words  I  knew  so  well 

And  I  felt  the  night  between  us  deepen, 

Heard  the  clock  that  ticked  upon  the  shelf, 

The  great  silence  closing  in  around  us, 

And  his  hand  that  he  withdrew  from  mine. 

Suddenly  he  struggled  upward  laughing, 

Tears  of  joy  were  streaming  down  his  face: 

In  my  breast  the  pang  of  some  departure 
Seized  me,  and  I  wept,  I  know  not  why. 

From  a  gully  of  the  jaded  city 

Drunken  laughter  filtered  through  the  night 
167 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

Where  I  knelt,  and  toward  the  open  window 
Reached  my  hands  before  me  as  in  prayer. 

"Yes,"  I  whispered  it,  "this,  too,  is  holy, 

Even  this  is  holy  and  divine, 
Though  to  poets  known  and  lovers  only 

The  dear  face  that  looks  from  meanest  things 

"And  the  majesty  that  moves  about  us, 

The  bright  splendor  in  what  common  guise. 

O  dear  Beauty,  though  forever  banished, 
Your  lost  angel  by  the  outer  gate, 

"Though  no  more  I  see,  no  more  may  sound  it, 
The  bright  truth  that  was  my  very  soul; 

Let  me,  baffled  still,  yet  still  believing, 
In  the  darkness  loyal  to  the  light, 

"Deep  within  this  exiled  bosom  bear  it 
Silent,  the  great  faith  forevermore: 

Beautiful  are  all  things,  and  forever 
Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Real !" 

From  the  proud,  pale  east  the  patient  morning 
Glimmered  sadly  on  a  million  rooves. 
168 


THE    MAN    TO    HIS    DEAD    POET 

'Round  me  the  old  sorrow  was  awaking, 
And  the  breaking  of  some  mighty  Heart. 

On  his  breast  his  hands  in  peace  I  folded 
Decently,  and  closed  the  staring  eyes. 

He  and  I  had  known  such  days  together — 
And  I  loved  him  better  than  myself. 


169 


ESCAPE 

INTO  bright  forms  the  formless  Being  flows, 
Seeking  therein  its  rapture  and  repose — 
But  still  the  forms  subside,  and  rearise 
New  forms:  body  is  born  and  body  dies. 
Then  in  my  body's  cage  I  murmured,  "How 
Shall  I  escape  from  this  destruction  now, 
This  travail  all  in  vain?" 

Answered  my  love,  "Escape  through  love  to  me 
Who  am  the  road  to  immortality — " 
And  answered  holy  Art, 

"Build  thee  a  deathless  form  where  thou  apart 
In  lonely  immortality  shalt  reign. 
Hasten,  and  from  this  fading  form  depart." 


170 


RETURN    AFTER    DEATH 


nPO  the  old  home, 


Through  the  wild  country  ways  and  meadows  damp, 
Lo — I  am  come: 
Drawn  are  the  blinds,  quenched  is  the  lonely  lamp 

And  dark  the  door. 

The  crickets  chirp  and  the  cicadas  sing, 

But  nevermore 

Comes  the  quick  step,  the  dear  voice  answering. 

Long  though  I  knock, 

Never  the  eager  answer  comes,  they  will 

Never  unlock — 

So  hushed  the  night,  so  deep  and  starry-still. 

Ah  fain,  how  fain — 

From  the  dark  terror  and  the  loneliness, 

Anguish  insane 

And  dreadful  secret  that  you  may  not  guess — 

The  starry  Vast, 
Inexorable,  of  everlasting  law, 

171 


RETURN    AFTER    DEATH 

Tomb  of  the  Past, 

And  endless  reaches  of  the  ancient  Awe, 

With  horrors  rife — 

Star  upon  star  forever  strewn  abroad, 

The  thrones  of  life 

In  the  dark  universe  dethroned  of  God — 

With  what  desire, 

Ah,  with  what  longing  that  you  cannot  know ! 

To  the  warm  fire, 

The  cosy  hearth  and  faces  all  aglow, — 

Dear  eyes  that  burn, 

The  old,  familiar  jokes  and  questions  dear, — 

We,  lost,  return, 

Calling  with  voices  that  you  cannot  hear ! 

Night,  deep  and  still: 

Empty  into  the  dark  the  windows  stare — 

A  whip-poor-will 

Cries  like  the  Past  upon  the  patient  air — ; 

But  where  it  lies, 

The  thing  I  was,  the  shell  of  me,  they  kneel 
172 


RETURN    AFTER    DEATH 

With  burning  eyes, 

And  in  mute  prayer  to  the  Unknown  appeal. 

Here  on  the  shore 

And  coast  of  the  illimitable  night 

Forevermore 

Lies  the  lost  shell  and  home  of  my  delight, 

Where  passion  reigned, 

Where  ecstasy  drew  hushed  and  hurried  breath, 

Where  Love  disdained 

To  stain  her  triumph  with  the  thought  of  death. 

O  pang  too  sheer 

Of  all  that  has  been  and  may  never  be ! 

Anguish  austere, 

And  wild  regret  of  all  eternity ! 


173 


THE    DEAD    POET 

NEW   mornings  flood  the  world,  starred  nights  wheel 
over; 

But  he  is  mute.     Defeated  in  the  war 
That  virgin  Beauty  wages  on  her  lover, 

He  takes  his  rest,  nor  heeds  them  anymore. 


174 


EXILE    FROM    GOD 

I  DO  not  fear  to  lay  my  body  down 
In  death,  to  share 

The  life  of  the  dark  earth  and  lose  my  own, 
If  God  is  there. 

I  have  so  loved  all  sense  of  Him,  sweet  might 

Of  color  and  sound, — 
His  tangible  loveliness  and  living  light 

That  robes  me  'round. 

If  to  His  heart  in  the  hushed  grave  and  dim 

We  sink  more  near, 
It  shall  be  well — living  we  rest  in  Him. 

Only  I  fear 

Lest  from  my  God  in  lonely  death  I  lapse, 

And  the  dumb  clod 
Lose  Him;  for  God  is  life,  and  death  perhaps 

Exile  from  God. 


175 


VANISHED 

HE  is  not  here,  your  most  beloved  one: 
With  everlasting  gesture  he  has  cast 
His  garments  from  him,  and  in  splendor  passed 
Out  of  the  sign  and  circle  of  the  sun. 
He  is  not  with  us,  he  has  dared  and  done 

The  great  adventure — ,  and  this  frame  at  last 
Lies,  like  a  shell  outworn,  here  on  the  vast 
Margin  and  shore  of  all  oblivion. 

There  is  not  any  motion  in  the  breast 

Where  the  quick  wave  of  being  came  and  went- 
The  bosom  thrills  not  now  to  be  caressed, 

Nor  will  the  cold  lips  deign  to  give  consent. 
See — he  is  vanished — and  the  careless  guest 

Has  left  his  mansion  to  the  element. 


176 


THE    GREAT    SURRENDER 

A?  at  the  breast  beloved, 
For  rapture  of  sheer  excess, 
We  render  up  ourselves, 

And  are  lost  in  loveliness; 

So  in  a  moment  supremer, 
More  beauty-drunken  still, 

To  the  starry  choir  of  All, 
The  fires  innumerable 

Of  the  universe  around  us, — 

Radiant,  pure  and  vast, 
Faint  with  immortal  rapture, 

To  the  greater  Love  at  last 

Our  single,  separate  selves, 

Freely,  beyond  recall, 
We  render  up  triumphant, 

And  sink  into  the  All. 


177 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

"Barest  thou  now,  O  soul—!" 

IT  was  the  night  when  my  adventurous  soul 
Beat  at  her  bars,  and  toward  some  ancient  goal 
Strained  through  the  darkness  and  emprisoning  gloom. 
Already  'round  me  all  the  little  room 
Seemed  to  a  vast  immensity  to  spread, 
And  on  the  shore  and  margin  of  the  dread 
Kingdom  of  death,  sublime  and  desolate, 
Tiptoe  my  spirit  trembled  and  elate 
With  expectation  of  far  things  to  be. 

There  was  no  terror  now,  no  agony; 
Only  with  mute  and  sorrowful  surprise 
I  felt  within  my  breast  the  fall  and  rise 
Where  the  old  sovereign  still  held  stubborn  sway, 
And  in  my  veins  the  embattled  life  at  bay 
Through  all  the  echoing  porches  of  my  frame 
Reluctantly  relinquishing  his  claim — 
The  patient  pleading  of  the  passionate  heart. 
And  now  all  this  was  as  a  thing  apart; 
But  in  the  faint  night  voices,  in  the  breeze 

178 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

Over  the  fields,  the  rustling  of  the  trees, 

The  owlet's  cry  that  quavered  for  delight 

And  poured  itself  into  the  poem  of  night, 

A  new  and  an  intelligible  word 

Spoke  to  my  senses,  and  my  spirit  heard 

In  the  lone  cricket's  droning  and  the  shrill 

Cicadas'  shimmering  from  vale  and  hill 

The  cry  of  Life,  that  still  in  myriad  ways 

Beseechingly  to  the  beloved  prays, 

Seeking  therein  its  immortality — 

And  Time  imploring  of  Eternity — 

The  ancient  prayer  from  earth  to  heaven  ascend, 

Rapture  and  ritual  without  an  end, — 

And  the  far  surf  that  broke  upon  the  shore 

Broke  on  my  heart  in  dream  f  orevermore. 

Wider  and  wider  did  the  windows  grow, 
Toward  the  soft  dark  in  mute  and  mournful  row 
Opening  like  eyes  in  everlasting  stare, 
And  wider  all  the  room — till  I  was  'ware 
Of  a  vague  shape  that  toward  the  bedside  moved 
And  had  the  gait  and  gesture  of  one  loved, — 
My  mother's,  so  I  dreamed,  that  now  had  come 
To  see  me  safe  abed  in  the  old  home, 
But  more  like  the  beloved's  was  the  face, 
179 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

And  all  my  being  hungered  for  its  grace 
Darkly  and  dumbly:  till  with  sudden  awe 
Those  solemn  and  those  searching  eyes  I  saw, 
Kind  without  pity,  patient  without  scorn, — 

0  loved  and  lost  before  this  soul  was  born ! 
Out  of  my  breast  the  very  self  they  stole 

That  trembled  toward  that  presence,  and  the  whole 
Weight  of  all  years,  all  anguish  unexpressed, 

1  poured  out  at  the  patience  of  that  breast, 
All  griefs,  all  fears,  all  hopes  uncomforted, 
And  "O  and  are  you  come  at  last" — I  said. 

"O  take  me  with  you,  hasten,  let  us  fly 
To  the  one  topmost  star  of  all  the  sky, 
The  utmost  quivering  loveliness  afar, 
Out  of  this  sorrow  of  all  things  that  are ! 
Come — let  us  haste — let  us  be  fled,  and  find 
Some  refuge  somewhere  surely  from  this  blind 
Ruin  and  wreck  of  sheer  mortality!" 
And  the  roof  parted,  and  in  silence  we 
Through  the  cool  air  of  quiet  evening  rose. 
I  saw  the  earth  beneath  me  in  repose 
Glimmering  darkly,  fields  once  loved  so  well, 
The  little  lonely  house,  and  the  worn  shell 
Of  my  old  body  on  the  bed,  and  one 
180 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

That  knelt  beside  it  with  bowed  head  alone — 
Not  without  grief — ah,  not  without  regret 
Was  made  that  mighty  sundering !     And  yet 
Over  my  head  the  immemorial  ways 
Of  heaven  lured  me  on,  the  trackless  maze 
And  wilderness  of  God,  sublime  and  wild; 
Then  to  me  turned  that  face, 

"O  foolish  child, 

Where  would  you  seek  to?     To  what  loveliness 
And  dimmest  throne  of  heaven  though  you  press, 
What  sanctuary  of  remotest  flame, 
You  shall  but  find  a  world  of  dust,  the  same 
World  of  old  griefs,  whither  your  spirit  flow, 
But  the  same  world  of  sorrows  left  below ! 
And  in  what  reaches  of  the  farthest  Awe 
Shall  you  escape  the  regnance  of  the  law, 
Or  on  what  planet  the  old  face  of  death, 
Or  face  of  love  ?     No  light  that  quivereth 
In  heaven's  holiest  in  serene  disdain 
But  is  a  world  of  passion  and  of  pain 
Even  as  ours,  and  still  the  sacred  Christ 
On  every  star  anew  is  sacrificed 
For  the  old  doom,  from  age  to  endless  age 
Making  His  everlasting  pilgrimage 
181 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

In  lonely  splendor  down  the  starry  way. 
Then  whither  would  you  ?  " 

And  I  answered,  "Nay, 
But  somewhere  surely  God  has  His  abode. 
Then  to  that  star  which  is  the  throne  of  God, 
His  very  seat,  O  thither  let  us  first 
Stream  in  fierce  love  and  longing,  for  I  thirst, 
Deeply  I  thirst  with  deep  desire  of  God ! " 
And  an  unbroken  silence  reigned  abroad 
Where  died  those  words,  where  silently  was  turned 
That  face  toward  mine  beseeching  it,  and  burned 
Deep  in  those  eyes,  compassionate  and  supreme, 
Inexorable  truth.  "Child,  child,  what  dream, 
What  hopeless  hope  is  here?     Where  shall  you  find 
This  phantom  and  chimaera  of  the  mind 
Reared  for  your  refuge,  you,  that  for  your  rest, 
Have  built  up  God,  and  given  Him  a  breast 
For  pain  to  lean  on,  and  a  heart  for  love ! 
Though  from  heaven's  deeps  to  heaven's  heights  above 
You  seek  Him,  though  through  all  eternity 
You  send  your  soul  out  in  one  loneliest  cry, 
No  voice  shall  answer,  nor  no  tongue  declare 
The  Presence  that  is  all  things  everywhere — 
The  flying  Dream."     Then  on  my  spirit  fell 
182 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

That  bolt  of  truth  like  lightning  terrible, — 

Nor  might  I  speak,  nor  might  I  think,  that  felt 

Out  of  my  soul  that  thought  supremest  melt, 

That  hope  the  dearest;  but  from  all  heaven  there  waned 

Some  Light  that  through  the  universe  had  reigned 

In  holiest  beauty:  and  I  whispered  low, 

"Even  as  you  will,  do  with  me  even  so." 

Midway  in  heaven  we  paused,  was  lifted  up 
Now  to  my  faltering  lips  a  drowsy  cup 
Upon  whose  cold,  clear  brim,  as  on  the  brink 
Of  nothingness,  shuddered  my  lips,  and  "Drink" 
Cried  a  low  voice,  "deep  of  this  draught  divine, — 
Oblivion,  the  world's  consoling  wine — 
Wine  of  all  tears  and  sorrows  and  dark  sleep, 
Nirvana,  great  and  blessed — deep,  deep 
Drink,  and  in  holy  love  triumphantly 
Render  your  self  up  to  the  All,  and  be 
In  other  selves  your  immortality ! 
Arnen.     Amen."     What  mastery  forsook 
This  soul,  unkingdomed  then!     What  terror  shook 
This  throne  of  being  to  its  shrillest  cry, 
"This  weary  self,  this  bitter  self,  this  I, 
This  weak  and  foolish,  this  inglorious  one, 
This  self,  this  self,  and  not  oblivion, 

183 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

This  only,  this  forever,  this  alone, 

This  and  no  other —  !"     So  my  being's  wave 

Broke  on  fate's  shore  in  agony. 

But  grave 

Were  the  calm  eyes  that  searched  me,  and  austere 
The  awful  voice  that  answered,  "Shall  you  fear 
To  render  up  what  all  have  loved  and  lost  ? 
Would  you  through  timeless  Time,  a  lonely  ghost, 
In  solitary  selfishness  apart 
Wander  the  heavens,  from  the  eternal  heart 
Of  Life  an  exile  ?     Shall  you  dread  to  move 
Into  the  blood  and  breast  of  all  you  love 
In  gracious  self-surrender,  shrink  to  take 
The  cup,  supreme  and  bitter,  for  the  sake 
Of  all  dear  life,  nor  generously  give 
Your  self  up  in  the  self  of  all  that  live — 
This  broken  and  bruised  spirit  bravely  yield 
To  be  ploughed  under,  furrowed  and  rent,  a  field 
Harrowed  and  cleft,  in  glorious  martyrdom, 
For  holier  harvests  on  far  days  to  come, 
Beings  more  lovely  in  some  worthier  shape? 
Nay,  would  you  the  one  common  doom  escape 
Of  all  those  silent  millions  that  did  bear 
Their  part  in  death  and  suffered  it,  nor  share 
184 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

The  general  lot  of  all  men  born  to  be, 
And  the  great  sacrament  universal?     See, 
On  all  these  myriad  thrones  of  Life  there  shall 
No  life  escape  the  destiny  tragical 
And  doom  triumphant !     See,  the  summer's  rose, 
That  to  the  sunlight  did  herself  unclose, 
Gently  into  the  dust  her  head  inclines — 
The  swallow  fleet,  that  in  sweet  heaven  shines 
A  flickering  flame,  ceaselessly  hurries  by 
Into  the  great  repose,  nor  questions  why 
In  its  brief  heart,  and  in  the  ringing  wood 
All  songs  most  musical  are  soon  subdued 
To  the  great  peace;  while  all  things  gay  and  dear, 
Springtime  and  April  of  the  flowering  year, 
In  generous  self-abandonment  consent 
To  the  sublime  and  dark  accomplishment 
Of  life's  divine  renewals:  Loveliness 
On  death's  divide  in  a  supreme  caress 
Shatters  her  beauty,  like  a  moonlit  wave! 
Yea,  the  one  body  dear  and  bounty  brave, 
The  lips  of  life,  full  of  all  sweet  replies, 
That  had  the  breath  of  Springtime  in  their  sighs, 
That  held  the  immortal  boon,  the  very  breast, 
Framed  for  all  joys  and  born  to  be  caressed, 
In  stately  splendor  through  the  gathering  gloom 
185 


TOWARD    THE    BRIGHT    DOOM 

Moves  without  murmur,  and  accepts  the  doom — 
Yea,  even  this,  the  most  beloved,  too ! 
Now  in  this  thought  perish  the  thought  of  you, 
And  in  the  wonder  and  the  dream  thereof 
Cease,  and  be  one  at  last  with  all  you  love." 

Then  toward  those  eyes,  pleading  I  turned,  and  saw 

Pity  inexorable,  eternal  awe. 

And  on  the  starry  All  that  'round  me  moved 

I  looked,  and  on  the  universe  I  loved. 

And  to  the  dregs  that  cup  of  hopes  and  fears 

I  drained  with  fiery  laughter  and  wild  tears ! 


186 


HOLY    LIGHT 

T IFE,  where  your  lone  candle  burns 
<•— '       In  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
Mothlike  my  lost  spirit  yearns 
Nearer  in  its  circling  flight. 

Luringly  your  beauty  draws 

Onward  with  each  shuddering  breath, 
Till  I  flutter,— till  I  pause 

In  the  radiance  of  death. 

I  am  flaming,  I  am  fled — 

All  around  you  reigns  the  night; 

But  my  agony  has  fed 

You  a  moment,  holy  light ! 


187 


te  stamped  below. 


'947 


1  ?  19G6  C 
1   '66-   'PM 


s"i)4120 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


